Brigand
by peasantbychoice
Summary: Isabella is a bloodthirsty criminal; efficient at killing, stealing and getting what she wants. What she wants is revenge; revenge against the King. There's one standing obstacle, of course – the King's son, who is dead-set on capturing the infamous outlaw to forward his name. They fall in love against all odds; but will he still love her when all the lies are revealed?
1. Scene I

**BRIGAND**

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****When I originally started this story, I thought that the medieval times lasted until the 16****th**** century. Guess who's wrong? THIS GIRL! *points to self* So please ignore any historical mistakes, they were made when I was foolishly uninformed. Just imagine that they are still part of the medieval ages.****

**A/N:_ So this'll probably be the last time I do an author's note in the beginning of a chapter but I'm just gonna explain the layout of Brigand, also the rating. There'll be three acts which is basically parts. Scenes are the chapters. I based it kind of off of plays. I have a basic plan of Act One and I can already see Brigand being a long one. I thought about it for a while now and I figured I would rate it M, just to be on the safe side. I will not be writing any explicit lemons or anything like that since I am nowhere near comfortable, but it may or may not be implied. Some scenes may or may not be graphic as well as there is some rough language. So yeah. Read on!_**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING ABOUT TWILIGHT. I do own three empty water bottles in my room, though.**

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**ACT ONE**

_Scene I_

Isabella Swan paid no attention to the wriggling mass of flesh tied up on the damp soil as she prepared her things. A glint of pleasure flitted through her eyes before it disappeared just as quickly. Perhaps her warped sense of pleasure for torture was morbid, but it was twisted after all.

"You sick bitch!" The man snarled from the ground, still struggling to break free from his bonds.

Isabella just sighed tiredly, rubbing the back of her hand on her brow. "You're a pesky fellow, aren't you? Very squirmy – but you have a good reason to be, right?" She asked, more to herself rather than the pathetic excuse of a man on the grass. She clicked her tongue. "Such crass language coming from such a noble man." She grinned maniacally at the writhing bloke on the ground.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" He growled, showing no fear. If felt it, he was hiding it very well. But Isabella was patient. More so, clever.

"I am Isabella Swan." She laughed at the colour draining from the man's face, but humour was void of her voice. She normally would not reveal her true name unless the person was to die. "Oh, Sir Vladimir, it's not about what I want from you." A flash of confusion flashed across his face. "It's what your corpse can do for me."

Immediately, Vladimir paled but quickly composed himself. He was a slimy man, used to threats and intimidation, but he usually had his band of guards at his disposal. Isabella had crept into his tower room late in the night and stole him away from safety.

"And what may my corpse do for you?" He tried to say with as much confidence as he could muster, but it wasn't much as she casually cleaned her dagger that dripped of blood from a previous kill. He gulped quite visibly, trying to clear his throat of the lump that lodged itself in his gullet. Vladimir didn't know that it was just deer blood.

Isabella smirked evilly. "Why, Sir Vladimir, do you want to know? Because you want to know how you will die?" She answered for him, not letting the man respond. "I will make you suffer as much as you possibly can while you are still alive. I will let your body bleed out on the forest floor where no one can hear you plead for mercy as I carve, maim, distort – choose your favourite word – your body until it is beyond recognition. You will not get an honourable death because you are far from being worthy of it. I would know since I don't deserve one either; I am a bad person, just like you. And while your pleas of mercy fall on deaf ears, you'll choke on your own blood. How does that sound to you?" She smiled innocently while Vladimir struggled to keep his own bile down.

"You – you'll never get away with this." He choked out. "When the guards find my body, they'll be hell to pay. And trust me; they _will_ find my body. There will be no escape from this. You will regret it." Sir Vladimir's voice grew with confidence as he spoke and Isabella didn't like it. Not one bit.

Isabella chuckled before stifling it. "Sir Vladimir. You do not understand me. I _want_ your body to be found. Quite simple. That's all the use will be to me."

"What is this about?" He snapped. "Is it money? Wealth? Revenge? You let me go – and I won't say a peep to anyone, - I can help you. Money; easy. Revenge; simple." He bartered quickly, a dribble of sweat trickling down his neck. He figured that filthy outlaws like her would respond to his offers, but Isabella would not be easily swayed.

Isabella laughed again; the man was quite humorous and dense. The thrill of a kill always made her giddy with giggles. "Sir Vladimir, do you truly believe you can weasel your way out of this?" She steeled her face, instantly becoming dangerous, lethal and capable of killing anyone; which was accurate, because she has killed a thousand strong men without as much as a scratch on her. "I am dead set on your death tonight, Sir Vladimir. Plead, barter, and beg all you want, but you will not be going back to the castle alive."

Vladimir changed tactics as quick as a viper. "You cannot do this! I am the King's Senior Baron!"

"And that is why you must die." She said bluntly. "If you must know, Sir Vladimir, your purpose is to prove a point I am trying to put out to the King. I am strong. I have ways. He should not doubt my capabilities. Not like the pitiful excuse of a warrior you call Stefan who died slowly for protecting such disgusting swine. You are one of the most heavily guarded men in the kingdom –besides the King, of course – so who is better to put that point across? Besides; you have always been a terrible baron." Isabella unsheathed her dagger, gleaming in the moonlight that filtered in through the foliage of the surrounding forest that was void of life except for her and her captive. "Any last words?"

"I have a family!" Vladimir was now on his knees but still bound. Tears streamed down his face freely, though they were just an act. "What about my wife? My three children? My grandchildren!"

She guffawed once again and hopefully for the last time. It may be night but it was dead silent. Anyone could hear her manically laughing. Then she shot forward, grasping his long, braided beard and pulling him forward. He shrieked in pain but stopped as he felt the tip of her dagger at his throat.

"I'm tired of your lies, Vladimir. I've been watching and learning. You murdered your own wife and have a dozen mistresses. You've beaten your children to a pulp and it'll be a gift to rid you of their children so they don't have to know what scum they have for a grandfather." She growled in his face and pushed him back into the tree. "You have just given me more reason to kill you, Sir Vladimir. I commend you for that."

Vladimir was now shivering in fear, his long, gangly frame quivering against the tree as if he could melt into the bark and hide away from the crazy woman that held him hostage.

"Help! Someone, help me, please!" He shouted out, writhing in his bonds even more. Isabella just went to his side and placed her dagger on his mouth, cutting around his top lip and prying the wound open with her fingers.

He sank down onto the cold grass and groaned in pain. "Would you shut up?" Isabella snapped. He groaned again and Isabella plunged her dagger into his left thigh, making him howl. She twisted the blade, her cold eyes never leaving his.

"Make it stop! Make it stop, you bitch!" He shouted.

Isabella slapped him hard in the cheek with the back of her hand, making him sink further into the ground. She withdrew the knife from his thigh and wiped the blood on his trousers. She glanced up, peering through the slight crack of the foliage to see the moon. Isabella cursed under her breath; she had too much time.

If she left for the castle too early, there would be too many guards on look-out, thus resulting in her rotting in jail.

She thought for a moment, playing with her dagger knowing that Vladimir's eyes were trained on it warily. "Alright, Vladimir, I have time. Why don't we play a game?"

He stared at her suspiciously. "Aren't you old for games?" He blurted out then immediately regretted it. Vladimir knew what the crazed woman was capable of and that she was cruel enough to go through with it.

Isabella placed her hands on her hips, feigning to be insulted. "Why, Sir Vladimir, are you suggesting that I am old? Do you not have a brain in that giant skull of yours? Of course you don't," she cut him off before he could answer. "If you did, you wouldn't have left your window open."

"I was not implying such thing –"

She huffed. "I'm sure you weren't. But let's get to the game." She placed her dagger on the rope that bonded him, registering his breath hitching in fear. To his surprise, she cut through his binds. "Unravel yourself." She instructed as she unslung her bow.

Sir Vladimir un-wrapped the ropes from around himself, letting it drop to the ground. He rubbed his forearms, which were throbbing painfully. He thought about escaping now that he was free, but Isabella had the upper-hand. He admitted that his position never demanded much physical exertion and that he was out of shape; she could easily catch up. Also, she handled the recurve bow as if it was nothing, stringing it easily and nocking an arrow to the string within seconds.

"Okay Sir Vladimir, that should be enough time for you to mull your thoughts over. The game is called Run. You will run - and I'll even give you an extra ten seconds since I'm feeling generous – in that direction," she pointed over to where the thick bushel of trees thinned, "and will not stop. You may run in the other direction, but there is a very large cliff that drops into shallow water there. You will certainly die if you happen to fall. You go any other way, and I will shoot. Got it?"

Vladimir nodded slowly, but his head was swimming with questions. "What is the purpose of this?"

"Oh Vladimir, what is the purpose of any game?" She joked. "It is for entertainment. This is for my amusement. I have too much time on my petite, deadly hands. Are you ready? I'm giving you a chance to escape, so you better prepare yourself." She lied. She wasn't letting him escape; but she let him hope for a second. Isabella nearly whooped in happiness when she saw the hope flash in his eyes. She would enjoy crushing the man under her boot.

"Will–will you be shooting?" He asked, stuttering.

Isabella smirked. "Of course I will be. Just to demonstrate…" She scanned the horizon, spying a branch sticking out about fifty meters downhill. "Do you see that branch?" He nodded. "Watch."

She raised her arms, pulling the arrow to full draw. She aimed down the sight and steadied, holding her breath. Then she let go, waiting for the sound of the arrow hitting the branch. It sunk cleanly into the wood with a thwack. For any other archer without her skill, their shot would whistle cleanly into the darkness. The whole sequence took only three seconds.

"That could be you, right in your heart." Isabella stated. Vladimir's heart sank, knowing that he will very well die by a bloody arrow shot by a woman that could not be older than her sixteenth winter. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, sweat beading down his neck. His limbs felt like jelly though he didn't move an inch and his vision was blurring, though he hadn't breathed a breath.

"Go!" She yelled, pushing him forward.

Vladimir stumbled up the hill, counting the seconds he had before she would start shooting.

One…

He pushed himself harder, his boots cracking the branches under his heel and dodging foliage that stuck out in the path. Eerie sounds erupted all around him as if he stirred up demons in his wake, making him run faster.

Two… Three…

His heart soared in hope as he made considerable distance in the time. He could imagine the trees parting way to the gravel road, out of sight of the demon-woman that could no longer hurt him. Liquid trickled down his leg as he ran.

Four… Five… Six…

Vladimir realized that the liquid dripping down his leg was his blood from the dagger wound. His vision filled with red, anger seeping into his bones. As soon as he got out of her grasp, he thought, he would ensure that she was thrown in prison, leaving her to rot.

Seven… Eight… Nine…

His head start was nearly up. Despite the pain flaring in his leg, he pushed himself harder. His lungs struggled to pull in more air and he felt like dying of the exertion, but he forced his legs to continue pumping. He could almost see the light trickling in and the entrance of the forest coming into view.

Ten.

Something whistled through the air and he swayed to the side. Whether it was because his vision was fading or because of his instincts were screaming at him, he thanked every god that just saved him from considerable death as the arrow just nicked his ear where it should have lodged in his brain. Confidence of escaping escalated in his chest.

THWACK!

Vladimir was pushed forward from the impact of an arrow in his right calf. He grunted as he hit the muddy ground, wincing and groaning in pain that shot up his leg. His consciousness waded in and out of his reach and he thought he saw his dead wife, looking at him in disgust. Then he spat where she would be, but his spit only hit the grass.

The sound of something squished registered in his mind and he moaned, trying to feebly crawl away into the bushes. But something grabbed his heel, dragging him backwards. His eyes flew open, frantically searching the area for something to latch onto.

He wrapped his arms around the trunk of a tree. Relief entered his body as the wench stopped dragging him, but he felt something crush his arms and he let go in pain, groaning.

Vladimir felt a finger push his head upwards. "Up." He scrambled backwards, his back hitting a tree. His whole body flared in agony and he shivered violently against the tree.

Isabella stared down at his distastefully, thought she was quite impressed. The bloody bastard ran faster than she expected; but when he had the chance to escape and a savage woman had an arrow ready to be lodged into his body, she figured that he would sprint for his life.

Sir Vladimir got closer to the forest edge than she would have liked, but she thought positively. She wouldn't have to drag his body too far to get to her trusty steed, that's for sure. She brought her things with her as she trekked after him when he went down.

Vladimir moaned and shivered, making Isabella roll her eyes, another one of her un-lady-like tendencies. "Stop your cowering, you bloody bastard. You're disgraceful. I gave you a chance and you completely ruined it." She rummaged in her pack while keeping her ears open. "Now that we're done with that time-wasting game, we can get on with the important matters at hand." Her fingers wrapped around the small vial.

"Tell me Sir Vladimir; do you know what this is?" She held the sickly green vial up to his face as she dipped her dagger into it. She withdrew the blade and held it to his face.

"N – no." He muttered. She was surprised that he was conscious enough to respond or to even breathe.

"I wouldn't think you would. You get your little minions to do your dirty work for you. It's monkshood. Wolf's bane, if you wish. Funny story; it's very poisonous." He paled to a sickly white and gulped. "Very poisonous and lethal. In large doses, that is. In small doses, you may be cured." She lied. It came easy to her; a sixth nature.

He brightened for a miniscule moment before slouching. "Why bother telling me this? I doubt you would cure me."

"You're correct." In a blur, she plunged her poisoned dagger forward and into his abdomen, making him gasp. "But you have helped me a great deal tonight, Sir Vladimir. I thank you for that. As reward, your death will come quickly. And I thank you for what your corpse shall bring me." She twisted the dagger in his body and he twitched, choking on his words. The light left his eyes and she snapped his neck, for good measure.

Isabella gathered her things together and strapped the body to Burnside, her faithful horse. Even though making her point was mostly a hoax, she achieved her primary goal. She brushed her horse's mane in thought. Burnside was lean with long legs, it's mottled, brown coat gleaming in the moonlight. She heaved herself up on the saddle and with a click of her heels; they sped off to the castle.

When they arrived undetected, she went into his office and dragged his body in the room, lighting a candle. Rapidly, she tied a noose and strung it over his neck, hanging his body from the ceiling. She withdrew the dagger and wiped off the blood with a rag. Rummaging in her pack once again, she withdrew a large, slightly heavy item wrapped in soft linen.

Isabella peeled the linen off the object, revealing a lead crown plated with gold and jewels encrusted in the side. It took some time to get the real jewels and gold and some favours, but it put its point across. She placed it on top of Vladimir's head, sneering to herself. Next, she brought out a piece of thick parchment, quill and inkwell. In elegant script reserved for these types of messages, she began to scrawl on the page. It was simply five words, but they would scream the loudest than anything else.

She folded the parchment and took the lone candle, letting the wax drip onto the fold. Before it could dry, she pressed her forged King's seal into the wax.

With a satisfied smirk, she placed the letter on Vladimir's corpse and stabbed the quill through the paper and into the corpse, effectively pinning it to the meaty flesh of his cold breast.

With her trademark red kiss on his cheek, she sped off on Burnside into the night.

BRIGAND

"Isabella!" Emily Uley yelled joyfully, whirling around the counter with a tray of mugs in her hand. From the stench of the room and the idiots stumbling and cheering boisterously, she guessed it was ale or rum.

"Emily, watch it!" She hissed out of the corner of her mouth. She glanced around the room to see if anyone had heard, but most of the customers were too far gone under the influence of alcohol to pay any attention to anything.

"Alright, I'm sorry." She placed the mugs in front of three men - who eyed her appreciatively, despite the scar running down her face – and took the empty ones from their grasp. "Marie! What are you doing here?" She amended with a dramatic flair in her voice.

Isabella preferred to be under the guise of her middle name rather than her first. She was renowned across the kingdom and had a hefty price over her head so she may be passed on to the Crown; dead or alive. If anyone knew that she was Isabella, there would be too many bodies to clean up after she finished defending herself. Luckily, no one had been able to properly identify her so there was no picture accompanying her wanted poster.

"I was around town so I figured I could stay here for the night. I prefer not to be travelling home in the dark." She explained.

Emily shook her head, her stray dark hair falling out of her bun. "No vacant rooms. There's a travelling circus passing through town that booked more than half of the tavern, some outsiders following in their wake. We have some cots in the back room, if that's alright with you."

Isabella nodded. "I just need a roof over my head and a place to sleep. It looks like it'll rain tonight." There was a crash of a glass and Emily winced. "Do you need help? It looks quite busy."

Emily bit her lip. "If it's alright with you. Circus folk tend to rile up the townspeople and they may still be continuing festivities until dawn. If you can shift in for Anna for a couple of hours, that would be great. She's been here since dawn and needs some sleep." She whirled in the other direction, eyes blazing. "Hey! If you want to break another mug, do that at your own home you bloody -" She stomped away.

Isabella scanned the room, her bottom lip catching in between her teeth. It was an awful habit of hers that she could never break when she was nervous. Dealing with drunken patrons was not one of her favourite hobbies, but she would endure for her lifelong friend.

Skimming the room, she sighed in relief when she saw the sandy-haired woman manning the bar. Isabella stuck against the wall and glided her way through the bodies, shuddering in disgust when one would brush up against her.

"Marie!" Anna exclaimed. She was not privy to Isabella's real name. "How are you?"

Isabella chuckled lightly, glancing across the room. "I should be asking you that. How are you handling the vast amount of drunken fools? I'd be ready to swoon by now."

Anna sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head. "I'm honestly not sure about that myself. I'm dead-beat." At the loud grunt of a large oaf at the other end of the counter, Anna filled a mug with ale and slid it across the wood. A couple of coins replaced the mug's spot.

Isabella lifted the plank enclosing the server's side of the bar and slipped in, closing it behind her. She was familiar with the area by now; having stepped in for other server's when they needed the break. A relatively clean apron stuck out from a shelf below the counter so Isabella shrugged off her cloak and stuffed it into her pack, shoving it under the counter.

"Can you help me with the ties, Anna?" She asked, slipping the top loop around her neck and turning so the server-girl could aid her. Anna swiftly tied it into a knot and began filling mugs.

"You can stop now, Anna." Isabella said, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder.

She shook her head, half of her sandy hair out of her now-loose bun. "There are too many people. I can't just abandon Emily and Claire when there're so many people." She explained, barely looking up.

Isabella placed her hands on her hips. "Why do you think you tied me up?"

Anna finally looked up, confusion flashing in her eyes. "I tied you up?"

Isabella sighed. "Yes, you did. Please go. This isn't healthy for anyone. Emily told me you've been working here since dawn and you have a family to get home to." She began to untie Anna's apron, but Anna slapped her away.

"I can't just leave them to deal with this all by their lonesome!" She protested, handing another patron another mug of rum.

Now Isabella was getting quite irritated. "Anna, I'll replace you. Please go home now."

"But -"

"No." Isabella said with finality. "You're being ridiculous. Emily said it was fine for you to go since I'm here to help, okay? Said I had to work off my room." She lied perfectly, smiling wryly.

After a few more feeble protests, Isabella got Anna out of her apron and into her outerwear. Night had fallen so it wasn't safe to be wandering out in the open by herself, so she sent Claire's husband, Quil to accompany her.

"Bella!" The kitchen door behind her swung open, nearly crashing against the wall. Isabella scowled at bother her name and the nearly collision.

She whirled around. "Samuel! What are you doing?" She nearly yelled. If he were to blow her entire cover because of his idiocy and boisterous personality, she would send him to the deepest pits of hell herself.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, _Marie._" He sighed, but then grinned as he swept her up in his arms and hopped in the spot. "God, I've missed you! Why haven't you visited more often?"

Isabella huffed as he set her on her feet. "If you greeted me appropriately, Samuel, maybe you would see me around more often."

"I called you Marie!" He protested.

"But you called me _Bella._" She shuddered. "You know how I favour Isabella much more. At least get my real name right, will you? And please call me Marie. And don't come barrelling into the room like a stupid buffoon; I'm sure Emily has told you that more than deemed necessary. And -"

"Okay, I got it!" He grinned down at her. "God, I have missed you and your loud mouth."

She raised her eyebrow and began wiping down a spot which a patron had left damp. "I recall Emily having a 'loud mouth' as well. Does she not have an effect on you anymore?"

Samuel rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. She still has the roof off the inn with those fantastic lungs." He lowered his voice and suddenly became solemn. "What business do you have back at La Push?"

Isabella nearly faltered in her movements but she recovered quickly, swiping coins off the glossy counter and shoving them into her apron pouch. "This is hardly any appropriate business to be discussed in public, Samuel, and you know it." She hissed under her breath.

Samuel's hand shot out so rapidly that Isabella barely had any time to dodge. He grasped her upper arm and dragged her through the bar and into the back room. Isabella followed obediently; which was a rarity. She crinkled her nose as the harsh smell of ale hit her nose.

"It is appropriate now." He said in a low voice. "Why are you here?"

Isabella smirked slightly, wrenching her arm out of his large hand. "Why, Samuel, you don't seem quite excited to see me now."

He softened considerably. "You know I am thrilled to see you. But you have not been to La Push for twelve months and not have sent any word of visiting or any word at all!" As he spoke his voice raised with each word.

"Calm down, Samuel! Goodness, you rival even Emily with your mouth." Isabella hissed, glancing back at the door to check if anyone had heard their rather large exchange. The tavern was still riotous and overwhelming, so she doubted anyone even caught wind that they were in there.

Samuel breathed heavy for a couple of moment before calming. "I apologize."

Isabella softened as well. "It's alright, Sam. I know you care dearly for me." She patted his muscled arm. "If you must know, I paid a little… _visit_ to your amusing baron." She smiled slightly at the corpse that a maid would probably have found by now. "If you catch wind of his death, it wasn't me."

"You killed Sir Vladimir?" He gaped at her. "How did you get into the fort?" Though he was surprised, he wouldn't grieve over his death. Vladimir was not known for being a neither kind nor gracious baron.

Isabella shrugged. "William trained me well. I disguised myself as a farmer's daughter bringing in fresh vegetables to the castle – which was not a complete lie, I did bring in some vegetables – and hid in the underground crypt until nightfall. By then I was only within the walls, so I scaled the walls of his tower and into his room. I've been watching him for several days now; he never locked his window." She explained easily. It was almost laughable, but Isabella stopped herself. She indulged in enough maniacally laughing already.

"Does William know that you are here?" He demanded. If he were to know, La Push may very well explode under the force of an expected heated exchange.

Isabella's eyes darkened and rage bubbled up in her chest. "No, and I plan on it staying like that. Are you going to say anything?" She growled, threats of death laced in her voice.

Samuel captured his nail in between his teeth, chewing on it absentmindedly. "I will not lie, but I will not bring up the subject of you either. That is all you can ask of me." When she narrowed his eyes at him, he blanched. "You know he is like my father. I cannot lie to him."

She sighed in frustration. "I supposed that is good enough. I plan on leaving by dawn. I have other matters to be taken care of, you know. Other people to be killed. Money to be made." Although that coin were probably not to find residence in her own pocket. She, like the rest of her band of brigands, often gave what they could to the poor. No sense on wasting it on frivolous things.

He did not frown at his words since he had done his own fair-share of murder; had he not met and married Emily, he probably would still be terrorizing and pillaging the east side of the country. "That would be for the best, as William is coming in the afternoon."

Isabella gnawed on her lip. "What of Jacob?"

"He is still -" Samuel was cut off by the sound of shrill screams and grunting. He turned on his heel and burst out the back room doors just as Isabella sprang into action.

About seven large ruffians dressed in dark garb stood in the front of the tavern, each totting equally great swords and crossbows. They hid behind the cowls of their capes that hung to the floor, varying in darkness.

"The Volturi." Samuel hissed. "How in the bloody hell did they find her here?" He spotted Isabella's things behind the counter and dashed to retrieve them, tossing her belongings in her direction. He sprinted back to her. "It's the Volturi. You need to leave, now, before they let you rot in jail."

"Bloody hell," Isabella hissed, not bothering with the ties of her apron and just sliced it off with her dagger. She quickly slid into her own mottled cloak, strapped her daggers to her hip and slung her quiver of arrows on her back. She gripped her bow tightly. "This might be a blood bath."

"You won't be doing this alone. Some bastard must not have been as drunk as I thought. Someone must have heard me call you Isabella." He declared, reaching behind a barrel of ale and withdrawing an impressive blade that glinted in the dimmed light filtering in from the tavern. Samuel felt the guilt bubbling up in him; he was undoubtedly the loudest in the tavern and the densest. He did not doubt that it was him who tipped off a suspicious and slimy patron.

"No." She placed her hand on his arm. "Stealth is the key here. There are too many for just two of us to battle. I sent Quil to go and take Anna home." Isabella clenched her jaw. "It is probably not your fault. The Volturi would not be in La Push unless there was a reason to. I suspected that they would be following me, but I did not think they would be this close. Also, there are many Isabella's in La Push. They must've been on my trail for a while now; much longer than I thought. I was too focused on Vladimir to notice it. Damn myself and my love for torturing disgusting swine." She hissed and then placed a hand on his arm. "I'll be at Ralph Single Hand's port handling a shipment of weapons I need. I'm guessing the circus folk shall be performing sometime soon?"

Samuel nodded. "In two days, I believe, in the market square."

She bit her lip. "Alright then. If you find out anything about how they happened on my trail, you let me know. I'll be there." Isabella pulled him in for a hug. "So, is there a way out?"

He pulled at his dark locks, cursing under his breath. "Okay, go through the back. The door to this room is somewhat hidden by the staircase, so you should be able to slip out undetected."

Isabella nodded and pulled her cowl up, covering half of her face. Stepping onto her toes, she pecked him gently on the cheek. "Thank you for everything, Sam. Good luck."

He hugged her. "May it follow you as well."

Isabella slinked out of the back room, moulding herself of the shadows of the wall. Samuel was right; the staircase impaired the Volturi from seeing her sneak out.

"What is going on here?" Emily demanded, bursting out from the kitchen.

The cloaked person at the front pushed back their cowl to reveal bright blue eyes that twinkled with malevolency and blonde hair pulled back in a braid. "We hear of Isabella Swan in these parts."

Understanding flashed in Emily's eyes but she quelled it. "That bandit? Why would I ever let her into my tavern?" She spat, disgusting tangled in her voice. Emily was a good fibber; when you married a retired bandit, you learn to lie.

Isabella was already out the back door and made her way to the stables where Burnside was awake and aware, as if he knew that she needed him. She saddled up and clicked her heels into his side as they sped away from La Push.

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**A/N: _I've read so many fanfics, it's not even funny. I've hated every single one with a weak, dependent Bella. There's nothing wrong with that, being dependent, but I hate it when it's to a point where she can't function without Edward/Jake. This Bella is badass and does not give a fuck. She's a bandit; and extraordinary one at that. She doesn't do it for no reason though, I'll tell you that now. ;)_**

**_Please review if you like it, it's my first attempt at fanfiction so I'll do my best. :) Yes, I know that there are some historical mistakes, whether it is in this chapter or will be in the next chapters. I'll do my best to avoid them. _**

**_Thanks,_**

**_-A_**


	2. Scene II

_**Scene II**_

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**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TWILIGHT OR ANYTHING RELATED. What I do own, though, is a nasty scrape on my ankle for not wearing long socks while skating.  
**

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Isabella didn't stop for a break, riding Burnside well into the night. Had her horse not been bred and trained to trudge on for long periods of time, then she would be forced to give Burnside time to recover. But with a prime horse like her own, three hours of riding was nothing.

The sun began to rise in the horizon, setting shades of yellows, oranges and pinks. It was awfully beautiful; even a rogue woman like herself could admit it. Mountains could be seen in the distance and there was a bare amount of clouds lingering in the sky. Morning dew lingered on the grass, casting a shine like tiny crystals sparkling in the sunlight.

Isabella looked to the sun slowly ascending in the sky and estimated that it be around six in the morning.

The gravel path cut off to an intersection. To her right led to a large lake where the townspeople of La Push and Evergreen would undoubtedly fish for bass, carp and other aquatic creatures. If she were to go straight, she would hit the quaint town of Grace Ridge at the foot of the mountains, Evergreen just an hour away.

Her destination, though, was to the left. The gravel path transformed slowly into one of dirt as it cut into a forest. In the night, it would pose as a place avoided by the children of the neighbouring towns; their parents indubitably telling tales of some kind of witch or creature waiting to gobble up naughty children. Even in daylight, ignorant townspeople tried to avoid going near it. Having lived at La Push, she heard the tales. All of which were false, as she had spent countless nights committing murders in the thick bushes. If Vladimir lived a tad bit closer to this forest, he would probably be tortured in it.

Because of these tales, it was the perfect place for a hideout.

A hideout for one Ralph Single Hand.

Isabella grinned as she and Burnside trotted leisurely in the direction of the forest. It was perfect, really. The screeches and noises coming from their hideout resembled those of a witch concocting a brew and hackling madly or an evil creature feasting on an unlucky prey. When they killed an unfortunate soul who stumbled upon the area or who angered Ralph in some way, it served to repel humans from their nightly activities. Anyone who passed by would spread the lies and further hiding the criminals in the forest.

If the townspeople were not so afraid, they would see how striking the forest was at daylight. Sunlight spilled through the cracks of the foliage, sending skinny beams into the woods. Instead of the trees hanging ominously and threateningly, they stood proud and elegantly as illuminating bugs floated around the trunks and sang a peaceful song. Wildflowers poked through the fallen branches and leaves while creatures went through their daily routine.

Burnside suddenly huffed warningly, but Isabella wasn't surprised. She easily unslung her bow and readied an arrow on the string. To anyone else not of her calibre, they wouldn't detect anything different. But she was Isabella Swan. She heard the slight crunch of a twig under a boot and a cape flying hastily behind a large tree. Anyone with a hint of brain and common-sense would know that panicking and quickly trying to hide was a mistake; you would simply draw the eyes to your motion. Also, a bright pink cape was a dead give-away.

Relaxed, she lifted her arm and pulled back to full-draw and let the arrow go, thumping against the wood of the tree the figure attempted to hide behind. There was a yelp and another miniscule chomp of a branch, making Isabella assume that the person jumped in surprise.

"Come out! I won't hurt you; unless you pose a risk." Isabella called out. She thought that she was being pretty friendly and amiable, but the person hiding did not reveal themselves. "I'm asking nicely, you know! That arrow could have been into that foot you're sticking out!" That said boot hurriedly pulled itself behind the tree in response.

Isabella sighed. Judging by the yelp, she guessed that the person was not an adult. The tone was too high pitched and did not have the power of a fully grown adult, or a male. It was probably a female child, lost in the forest upon stupidity or curiosity.

Either way, she clicked her heels against her horse and trotted up to the tree. She neared closer, not instructing Burnside to tread quietly so the sound of twigs snapped under his hooves rang loudly. She still wanted to give the person time to show themself, but the form still did not move.

When Isabella came into full view of the person, she inwardly smirked at her accuracy. It was indeed a female child.

"Hello there," she said gently instead of the gruff tone she took to Vladimir not a day before. "Are you lost?"

"Gah!" The girl sputtered, tripping backwards and onto the still slightly muddy ground. She clutched a dagger to her chest, her hand shaking as it made a sign to ward off evil. It obviously did not work as Isabella continued forward. "Stay away!" Her voice quivered in fear.

Isabella let out a laugh at that. She may be murderous and bad-tempered, but she would never lay a hand on a child with no reason, a female most of all. She was probably the safest person to the little girl, which was quite the contrast from her reputation. "Do not worry, young one. I'm not Muriel the Mad. I won't eat you for dinner or anything." Then she frowned. "That is the tale your mother has probably told you at night, correct? I fear that the stories may have changed from when I was just a child."

The girl's eyes were wedged shut, for the tales of the witch stated that laying your eyes upon the crone would render you paralyzed. She struggled to raise her dagger, trying to fend off the witch. "Away! My– if my uncle were t–to find you, y-you would be d-d-dead by now!" She stuttered in fear. Isabella doubted that notion. Her uncle probably did not care that his peasant child was along in the woods, for her disappearance would mean one less mouth to feed.

Isabella swung her legs onto one side of the saddle and hopped off Burnside, her boots sinking slightly in the soft dirt. The girl squeaked, assuming that the witch would chop her into small bits and throw her into the cauldron. She scrambled back, but she hit another tree.

"Please don't hurt me!" She cried as tears slipped out of her clenched eyelids. "My uncle will give you anything! Just don't hurt me! I'm sorry for being naughty and disobeying my auntie and uncle; I won't be bad anymore!"

Isabella laughed at her words. She doubted her poor farmer uncle could afford to offer her any reward for returning a rebellious daughter. She also doubted that the father would even care about his missing child. The child could also be making empty promises in the heat of the moment. She would never expect the girl to actually follow through on her oaths.

The girl wailed. "Witch! Help me, please! Someone!"

Isabella giggled and knelt to the girl's level on the ground. She didn't think that the girl would attack with the dagger for she was shaking so profusely. The child held the dagger too stiffly in her hand and her arm was locked in place. Even if she were to lunge forward, Isabella could easily fight her off.

"I'm not a witch, lovely girl. I will not paralyze you with my apparent disfigured looks. I mean, I don't think I look mutilated. I've often been told that I'm quite the looker." She joked and pushed off her cowl. She wasn't wrong of course; drunken men often came onto her will slurred words of her beauty. They just ended up with black eyes and broken limbs.

She placed a hand on the girl's hand that held the dagger. The girl cried, but noticed that the skin of the witch's hand was not wrinkled and dry. It was quite soft and firm, indicating that the person was quite young.

Despite her mind shrieking at her not to open her eyes, she couldn't ignore her heart telling her to at least peek. The girl wedged her right eye open slightly, prepared to shut it close if the witch was lying.

Through the crack of her eye, she spotted long, brown, flowing hair (which she found odd; women usually had a cap or bonnet to cover their hair) and a lithe figure; a stark opposite of the tales her aunt told her. Her eyes popped wide open then, taking in the cunning, sparkling brown eyes and kind smile. The woman was dressed in a brownish, greenish tunic with leggings and knee-high boots, a cloak hanging around her shoulders with the cowl pushed down.

"You're not Muriel the Mad." She noted with wonder.

Isabella smiled. "As I have said some times. Thank you for opening your eyes." She frowned. "Why are you in the forest so early, young child? Shouldn't you be in bed at home?"

The girl was no longer afraid for her life, but afraid of the wrath of her aunt and uncle. "I was dared to spend sunrise in the forest by some friends." She muttered, blushing. She did not understand why she heeded Kirk and Wendell's dare. Now that she thought back, she realized how silly it was.

"And you followed that challenge? Didn't your parents tell you not to do something you're not comfortable doing, even if it's by your friend's word?" She scolded. "Perhaps I must exchange words with them, or maybe your little friend's parents. They must know of the troubles they are stirring up…"

The child blushed, as if she were ashamed of what she was about to admit. "I don't have parents." She looked up to the woman's warm brown eyes and found that she didn't need to feel any negative emotions with her. "My aunt and uncle have taken me in."

Isabella's eyes and heart softened. She knew the pain of not knowing a parent and losing one. "I'm sorry, child. I understand, as I did not know my mother. She died from the plague and my father was murdered." She growled. At the child's wary eyes, she calmed somewhat. "What's your name?"

The girl bit her lip, which reminded Isabella of herself. "Vanessa Cullen, miss. And your name?"

Isabella smiled while hiding the surprise and shock in her. She knew who this girl was and how much of an asset she could be. Vanessa Cullen was the daughter of the Queen's sister. When her parent's died of the same plague that took her mother, the King and Queen had taken her in and raised her as their own. How could she not have known? The fine linens, the bejewelled dagger, the clean complexion… those features should have given at least some clue to her heritage.

Then she looked into the child's eyes; pure, innocent and inexplicably trusting.

Even though she was a sweet child, she could be used.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty." Isabella bowed her head since we was already kneeling on the soil. "I am Marie Jones." She lied smoothly. Even though she was a royal child, she would have undoubtedly heard the name Isabella Swan and known her reputation. She found herself thanking God that they never had a picture to accompany her wanted poster. "Now, I believe your aunt and uncle should be beside themselves with worry. Would you like a ride to Grace Ridge? Then we could get you to the baron and back home." She offered.

Vanessa grinned, warming to the Isabella. "If you would so kind…" She said tentatively. Vanessa decided that she quite liked the beautiful woman already and trusted her more than she should.

Isabella held out a hand to Vanessa which she took. Isabella pulled her to her feet and saw the finer details of her elegant clothing and fine cape; if she had not said her name, she would have guessed that the girl was of noble blood anyways because of the added intricacies in her clothing. No regular farmer girl could afford such fine silk or have perfect complexion. She would have also been skin and bones from the lack of proper nutrition instead of being appropriately plump and healthy.

She helped Vanessa up onto Burnside who huffed. He usually did not enjoy people other than his owner to ride him, but he made the exception since Isabella was already there. Isabella frowned at the wayward sound and smacked his nose, giving him a 'do not be rude' look. She pulled herself up onto the saddle and clicked her heels into her horse's side, setting off on an easy trot.

"Your Majesty, would you mind explaining why you would heed a silly dare, especially since you are of much more regal blood? Shouldn't you be at Castle Forks?" Isabella started.

Vanessa frowned behind her. "I would much prefer Vanessa, Miss Jones. Or Nessie, as my family would call me."

Isabella chuckled. "Alright then, Miss Vanessa. And you may call me Marie. Miss Jones is my late mother." She smiled at the thought of her mother, but shook it off. "The dare?" She prodded.

The young princess blushed. "My aunt and uncle are at Grace Ridge for some sort of military meeting or something of the sort. We visit often and I have made some friends on our stays. Kirk and Wendell are the only kids my age there, so we got along quite quickly." She explained.

The King was there. That was all Isabella could think, but she knew it was too early to make a move. The King and Queen were on a military mission in one of the most heavily-armed towns other than Castle Forks itself so there would undoubtedly be too many guards to take revenge. She wanted to kill the King. Not the entire town of Grace Ridge and a fraction of Evergreen. Even she doubted that she could handle such a large amount of men.

"I assume this Kirk and Wendell were the ones to send you on this silly expedition?" She asked.

Isabella felt Vanessa nod behind her. "Yes. I haven't been to Grace Ridge for a year now and they insisted that I changed into an uptight, princess-lady." She pouted. "They dared me to go into the forest to prove that I still had the adventurous in me."

She laughed. "Well, you certainly still have the guts, young lady. How old are you now?"

"Ten summers, Miss Marie." She answered with a sweet smile. They emerged out of the forest not too long later, completely evading Ralph Single Hand's lair. If she brought the Crown Princess, there would likely be a slaughter for her ransom. Isabella was simply a convenient ally to Ralph, not venturing into friendship. She would most likely have no chance to return to La Push and be force to send her apologies to Samuel.

"Why, when I last heard, you were just a babe!" Isabella chuckled, remembering killing the messenger that had the balls to stumble upon her little cottage. No sense letting a gossipy farm wife spread the word of the lone cabin in the woods. "I've been out of touch for quite a while now."

"Where have you been?" Vanessa questioned innocently. Had she been full-grown and of little value, Isabella might have thrown her off a cliff for being so ignorant.

Isabella smiled. "Around." She said simply. "I travel. Why stick to one place when there's a world out there to discover? My brothers and sisters would say the same."

"So like a gypsy?" Vanessa said.

Isabella giggled. "You might want to watch your words, young Vanessa. Some may not respond well to being called a gypsy."

Vanessa flushed and lowered her head. "Forgive my words, then."

"Don't fret, princess. I'm not like others and I take no offense to those words. I guess I am a gypsy, thought I would prefer being called a traveller. I do have a home in my own name, but why stay in one place when there's a world to discover?" Isabella explained. Now that she had a conversation going, she decided to innocent prod the princess. "So, tell me about life about the castle. I imagine it's much more exciting than a simple farmer's town."

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Vanessa gushed. "Aunt and Uncle have a beautiful castle, full of nooks and crannies to play in! There's a giant library with so many books, I could get lost in there for hours! The gardens are my second favourite since Ronald and the gardeners keep it looking so pretty!"

"It sounds beautiful, Vanessa. I wish I could see more, maybe play some hide-and-seek." Isabella suggested harmlessly.

"Yes, we could play together! Oh, you must visit some time! I play with the servants' children sometimes and we play hide-and-seek so much, I've become the best! I know where all the best hiding spots are!" Vanessa prattled excitedly.

Isabella perked up slightly at her words. Hiding places, indeed. "I must confess; I'm terrible at hide-and-seek. If I was to come and play, do you think you could spare some good places to hide?"

"Of course! I'm a good climber, so sometimes I would hide out on the support beams that are on the ceiling! They're so strong; they could probably hold even fat Gilbert! I always win up there, so maybe that can help you out!"

Support beams, Isabella thought. She could conceal herself there for a while. "Or perhaps hide a large woman like me. I can climb quite well, too." Very well, Isabella said o herself. If scaling a tower was a breeze, then hiding away on the support beams was nothing.

The sight of a large bridge and a river suddenly came into view, along with several men patrolling the area. Each person was dressed in decent garb, indicating that they were neither farms-people or of noble rank.

"Bandits," Isabella noted. As they neared, she noticed the sewn crests on the breast of each man. She did not recognize it to be part of the Crown or Volturi, so she assumed they were part of a cult or brigand group. "Of course, I should have expected this." She said in an amused voice.

Vanessa shivered behind her. "They were not there when I crossed the bridge."

Isabella nodded. "That is expected as well. Not many travellers to steal from at night, more so in the morning as they travel between villages. They will most likely demand tribute to cross and kill if you refuse." Not to mention that they would probably rape the both of them since there were no men present with them, but Isabella didn't dare say that aloud.

"I can pay for the passage." The princess offered. She brought out a purple silk purse, flicking open the catch.

"Put your coins away. No sense in paying when they would not let us across without more." Isabella instructed. "Please stay quiet while I deal with this. If it comes to violence, stay with Burnside. He's trained to protect."

"Why not just give them the money?" Vanessa suggested.

Isabella bit her lip, thinking of a way to avoid the topic of being brutally used. "They don't just want money from two women."

Vanessa did not give any indication of understanding her words, but stayed silent. Isabella clicked her heels and Burnside continued forward as she unslung her bow and readied an arrow. Burnside huffed that the gruff men that took notice of the trio.

One man stepped forward. "Hail, traveller." He said, brandishing an impressive sword.

Isabella pulled on the reins, stopping her horse. "Good morning men. What seems to be the problem?"

The man grinned, showing yellowed and chipped teeth. His hair was slicked back and greased, his skin oily and covered in filth. "This is our bridge, lovely lady. Pay passage to cross."

Another bloke stepped forward. "An' step outta yer clothes w'ile yer at it." The seven other men cheered in agreement, raising their rough weapons in assent. Isabella was slightly taken aback by his straight-forwardness, but he was a simple-minded brute by the looks of it. Half of her mind was hoping that they would simply demand coin, but the other half knew better. No matter the station, men were lusty beasts.

Isabella shook her head. "I don't think so, boys. I have a child with me."

"We're not ag'nst a young'in either!" A disgusting fellow from the back yelled. Isabella held back the shudder at either of them being in the clutches of such revolting men. No, she wuld not let that happen. She would kill the entire town of La Push than let harm come to the young girl that she could already say she cared for.

"Then it seems like we are at an impasse here, as I will not shed clothes or coin for scum like you all. Neither will the girl." Isabella growled. "You let us through or there will be bloodshed." She threatened.

They all burst into laughter in unison. The man in front held up his hand to silence them all. "What makes you think that you can kill us all, lass? You'll be brutalized and dead before you could raise that dinky bow of yours. Your daughter, as well."

Anger boiled in Isabella as she thought of the men laying their filthy hands on the young girl she was already beginning to liken to. Vanessa buried her head in Isabella's back, breathing heavily into her cloak and shaking in her seat.

"I don't care for your idiotic words, you bloody ruffian. Will you walk away or die?" She shouted an ultimatum.

The leader laughed and flourished his sword. "Attack!" He yelled.

Isabella was already in action before he could finish his words. She raised her bow and let the arrow fly in between the eyes of one man and repeated the process for another two men, letting the drop heavily into the ground. By then, they were already upon them.

She held tight onto the reins and drew them backwards, causing Burnside to rear up and kick a man in the skull with his front hooves. Isabella kicked a man back with her boot while stabbing a bloke in the chest with her dagger, still on her horse. Vanessa squealed all the while, burrowing deeper into Isabella's cloak.

Isabella made Burnside rear again, only causing the men to back up. "Stay on the horse." It took some coaxing, but Vanessa released Isabella before swinging off and kicking a man in the face, blood spewing from a broken nose. She swung her dagger in a large arc and he jumped back into a man behind him, making them sprawl on the ground. Isabella slit one man's throat and stabbed her dagger into the skull of the one under.

She heard Vanessa shriek for help and Isabella whirled around, seeing a man trying to tug her off the horse. Vanessa flailed while Burnside continued hitting people with his hooves.

Isabella unsheathed her throwing knife and held it by the tip, feeling its weight in her hand before lunging it with deadly precision. It sunk satisfyingly into the throat of the man grappling for the princess and he fell to the ground.

Arms wrapped around her, holding her in a choke hold. Without hesitation, she jabbed her elbow into the man's gut three times hard and felt him loosen his hold. Isabella broke free and slashed him through his throat, blood spilling quickly out of his gullet and making him splash into his own blood on the ground.

Isabella turned to see the leader in shock that all his men were dead on the ground. His eyes looked like they were ready to bulge out of his head and roll onto the soil. He fell to his knees and dropped his weapon in defeat.

"Spare me, please. I'm sorry!" He pleaded.

Isabella lived for this type of moment. If she didn't have the child princess with her, she would've undoubtedly unleashed her rage on the man for being so ignorant and arrogant. She would enjoy his pain as she tortured his body beyond recognition, like she had done with Vladimir. His blood would be on her hands and she would enjoy it.

But she couldn't.

So Isabella simply strode in front of him and plunged her dagger into his chest, watching the life spill out of his eyes.

She wiped the blood off her weapons with his clothing, returning to Burnside. The horse was unaffected and calm, but Vanessa was in a state of distress and weeping loudly.

Isabella softened and pulled the girl off the horse, hugging her tightly to her body. She thought Vanessa was push her away from being so scarily vicious, but she held Isabella tighter.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa, for letting you watch me kill so many men." Isabella whispered softly.

Vanessa just shook her head, sobbing into her tunic. "No, I was scared that they would hurt you!"

Isabella laughed at her innocence and warmed at the care the girl felt for a murderer like her. Though the lives she took meant nothing to her, the girl's opinion did. "You're such a silly girl, Princess. Were you not worried for your own safety? Did you not fear me as I took their lives?"

The girl looked up to Isabella, her eyes rimmed red and snot trickling down her nose. Isabella held out her handkerchief for her to wipe up her face. "I fear for you! I did not worry for myself since I knew you would protect me." She mumbled into the cloth.

Isabella smiled into the girl's hair. "You're such a sweet girl, Miss Vanessa. Don't ever change that."

They held each other for a few more moments before Isabella lifted her into her arms and set her on the saddle. Isabella gathered her arrows from the men she shot and took their purses, which were quite heavy. She pushed aside the bodies to create a path to cross the bridge.

She handed the purses to Vanessa and pulled herself up onto Burnside, clicking her heels and setting off into a canter.

Vanessa sniffled. "Why did we take their coin?"

"I usually take whatever that is valuable and give it to people that really need it." Isabella explained. "I have no need for excessive coin. Only enough to keep me alive."

The princess was silent for a moment. "I feel bad for taking their money."

Isabella chuckled. "They're dead, Vanessa. And when they were alive, they felt no remorse for pillaging a woman and her 'child'. They've undoubtedly killed many before us and stolen from thousands. I believe we did your aunt and uncle a favour for ridding the area of their crimes." She pacified the young girl. Isabella remembered her first kill and her sorrow. This was probably not far off from what she was feeling.

"They would've hurt us, right?" Vanessa asked in a small voice. Isabella didn't like how low the girl felt, so she stopped her horse and turned around to pull the girl into a hug.

"Do not fret, Vanessa. I won't let anyone hurt you." Isabella said, surprised at her sincerity. She truly did not want anything to happen to the little girl in her arms, her heart warming and swelling.

The sound of hooves cantering against the gravel brought Isabella out of her trance, her head snapping up. Her lips turned upwards. "Let's get going, little lady. I believe we have a worried aunt and uncle to appease."

Once again, Isabella helped Vanessa on Burnside and swung up onto the saddle. They began to trot lazily down the road. It was barely five minutes before they heard the voices and Isabella pulled up her hood to cover her eyes.

"Vanessa!"

"Princess!"

"Nessie!"

Vanessa buried her face into Isabella's cloak. "Don't bring me back with them. Take me with you." She whined, clutching the cloth in her tiny fists.

Isabella chuckled. "Not looking forward to the reprimanding, Your Highness?" She jested.

"Not at all, Miss Jones." The girl snapped back. Isabella just laughed and pressed her heels into Burnside's side, lurching into a steady run. In no time, eight figures on horses came into view.

"Vanessa!" The lady in the front yelled, instructing the horse to sprint forward. The man that was beside her yelled for the band to follow forward and they came to a stop.

"Vanessa!" The lady sobbed, jumping off the saddle and running over. She completely disregarded Isabella and pulled the princess off Burnside's back, cradling her. "Nessie, I thought you left us! How could you?" She cried.

Isabella smiled fondly at the scene. She imagined her mother acting the same way if she were alive.

"I'm sorry Auntie Esme!" Vanessa cried, burrowing deep into her aunt's chest. "I'm sorry Uncle Carlisle!"

Auntie Esme. The Queen.

Isabella turned to the regal, blond-haired man who threw himself into the group hug as well. Isabella's heart began to pick up pace just at the near proximity of her life-long goal.

Uncle Carlisle. The King.

The three stayed on the ground, patting the princess with fond hands and coddling her. She seemed to not mind the attention as she cried into her aunt's breast. Her uncle knelt on the ground, placing a steady hand on each woman's shoulder.

Most important of all; he had his back to her.

It would be preposterously simply to simple unsling her bow and send an arrow flying into his skull or bury her dagger into his heart. Her mission that plagued her for eight years would be complete and she would no longer have any reason to live other than to be.

But somewhere inside her, she couldn't do it.

No, it would be too easy.

Isabella couldn't do it. She wanted the man to suffer at her hands, to watch the life spill out of his body as he begged for forgiveness and mercy that she would not bestow on such a vile soul who lived in a royal body. She wanted to see his eyes lose hope as he discovers that he will not find a way out of the horrible crime he committed.

Yes, she wanted it. She wanted it with all her soul.

She wanted the life of the man who killed her father.

* * *

**_A/N: I'm pretty sure any author would be like, "Dun Dun DUN" but it's not really a "Dun Dun DUN" moment, is it? _**

**_First, WOW. 2 reviews, 3 favourites and 3 follows. I've never really done fanfiction before, so this is pretty astonishing for me. I was checking my mail all this week in class and I was squealing every time I got a notification from Fanfiction. I'm pretty sure that my Geography teacher thinks I've gone crazy, but that's nothing new. Frankly, if she didn't know I was messed up in the first place, then that's her fault. But anyways, I was even ecstatic to see how many views/reads I've gotten! At least I know people are reading it though, right? If you can leave a review, it would mean the world to me. Even a simple five words would make me see stars and shit. _**

**_So, a couple of things to address. Yes, Bella is warming to Vanessa pretty damn quickly. Almost too quickly. But you know, it's the author's intention to do tat and blah, blah. Nessie - in the book - is Bella's daughter and they were pretty freaking close. I kept the "pretty freaking close" part since I couldn't have the "is Bella's daughter" part. Yeah, Bella's skills seem a bit over-powered, but she has reasons and a whole bunch of flaws to balance that out. Edward will be coming soon, ladies! Don't worry about that hunky hunk of hunk!_**

**_Also..._**

**_To Christiana: I don't know why you insist on reading my fanfic, I know you'll mock me in school anyways. I don't need you spilling this shit to the entire student body. _**

_**To Abigail: No, this is not gay fanfiction about 1D. I'm not a Ziam lover. No thanks.**_

_**To Pia: Don't be hating on fanfiction, you bitch. I love you.**_

_**To frostedglaze: Thanks for being my first reviewer! I hope I don't disappoint! And I'm glad that SOMEONE shares the same opinion as me, though I should remind you that this won't be a lemony fic, even though I may mention some watered-down lemon moments. Does that make sense? I don't know anymore. :P**_

_**To my anon guest: Thanks! I will!**_

_**To Ed Sheeran: Will you marry me, you sexy ginger? At least let me marry your voice. And your hair. And your face. And your legs. And...**_

_**To everyone else: Thank you for reading! Please review and I'll try to respond to the best of my abilities!**_

_**-A**_


	3. Scene III

_**Scene III**_

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**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING RELATED TO TWILIGHT. What I do own are a pair of Converse and possibly two more on the way.**

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_Yes, she wanted it. She wanted it with all her soul._

_She wanted the life of the man who killed her father._

As if the guards could sense her murderous emotion, they grabbed hold of her by the arms and pulled her off Burnside. Isabella didn't fight back which went against everything she knew; she let them take her with a smile on her face since she knew she would have the revenge she wanted soon.

Burnside whined and reared, protesting at the guard's snatching away his companion. A guard placed a blade at the horse's neck. "Calm your steed, or I'll kill it."

Isabella smirked; she loved her horse with a passion but nothing in the world could bring her down from the high she was feeling. "Stand down, Burnside. No need to antagonize the big man with the big sword." She leered at him.

The guard that held her left arm kicked the back of her knee, making her tumble to the ground. Someone snatched her visible weapons away; her bow and arrows, her heavy dagger and throwing knife. No one knew of the dirk in her boot, the poison leaves in her breast pocket or the small blade in her sleeve.

The King barely glanced in her direction. "Bring the kidnapper back to Castle Forks for a public burning and then have her head on a stake at Castle Forks." He commanded. "Scout the rest of the area. Make sure there are no others with her." The guards moved to oblige him. One placed his boot heavily into Isabella's back, air puffing out of her lungs painfully. He placed his sword above her neck, poised to kill.

Somewhere in her fits, the words registered in Vanessa's mind. "No!" She sprang up from the Queen's grasp and tripped over to Isabella's side, shielding her with her petite body from the guard's sword. "You cannot kill her!"

The King kept his cool air as he attempted to snatch the girl from Isabella's body, still sprawled on the ground. "We cannot let the woman live, Vanessa. She stole you away. We're lucky that we rescued you before she harmed you." The King said in a voice as if he were approaching a damaged animal.

_These people are daft. _Isabella thought with a slight roll of her eyes.

"She didn't steal me away!" Vanessa protested with conviction, tears sliding down her eyes. "You can't kill her!"

"Then why were you gone, Nessie, just to find you restrained by this crazy woman on her beast of a horse?" The Queen objected, grasping the princess's shoulder. "Come, Nessie, we must get you to the healer! There may be an unseen injury!"

"She didn't steal me! She saved me!" Vanessa cried, diving into Isabella's body. "Kirk and Wendell dared me to do something stupid and I did it! She saved me from the bad people at the bridge who wanted to take our money and clothes!"

Isabella smirked smugly as she lay on the dirt, the guard's boot pressed into her back and his sword steady over her neck, positioned perfectly to let her blood spill onto the earth. The thought about rolling away from his hold and lunging upwards with her dirk into his body, but resisted the urge to kill. She would get her moment; a moment away from the Princess. The bastard King and his wife always thought they were right, but not this time.

The Queen huffed. "What lies. The kidnapper obviously brainwashed our lovely niece to believe that stealing her away was a good thing." She knelt to Vanessa's level, cradling her face with a gentle hand. "Don't you want revenge, sweet girl?"

_Revenge indeed,_ Isabella thought with wistfulness.

Vanessa shook her head violently. "No, Auntie! She's nice! Go to the bridge; there're bad people there that she killed to save me!"

To further the claim, a guard on his horse cantered close. "My Lord, there are about nine dead bodies at the bridge about a quarter mile south. Each bearing the insignia of Argrath, a known pillager of small towns, taking children for slaves and burning buildings." He announced. "They were likely patrolling the bridge to demand tribute for passage across. What do you wish to do?"

"Yes, yes! That's who she killed to save me!" The princess sobbed.

Isabella glanced up to see the King hold a thoughtful gaze on Isabella. The Queen had a pained face as she stared at her beloved niece who protected a well-known bandit that they didn't know was a brigand. They thought that their niece was holding some misguided affection for what they thought was her captor.

"Does my niece speak of the truth, woman?" He spoke softly, but there was still a hint of silent anger. "Or did you persuade her to believe the lies that spill out of her mouth?"

She knew that she shouldn't, but she couldn't help the sly smile that crept up her lips. Perhaps it was from the high of being so close to her target, yet so far away. "Nothing but the truth is spoken by innocent lips, my Lord. I was travelling into the forest for a morning hunt – with permission, of course - when I found the young Princess hiding behind a large pine. She believed I was Muriel the Mad." She jested lightly, but the hard cast of the King's face did not change.

"Nessie, is this true?" Vanessa nodded with her head buried in Isabella's hair. "Why were you in the forest?"

The Princess's head snapped up, eyes rimmed red once again. "I told you, Auntie Esme! If you listened to me instead of the anger that boils in your blood, I would not have to repeat myself!" She yelled with impudent conviction.

"Vanessa Carlie Cullen!" The Queen scolded. "What has become of you?"

"The life of Royalty, Auntie! I went into the forest because Wendell and Kirk believed I was not the adventurous girl I was the year before! I wanted to prove that castle life did not change me!" She argued hotly. Isabella had the urge to applause her for her rebellion but it was difficult with the guard's boot and sword pinning her to the ground, along with the petite girl attempting to build a home out of her hair.

"Nessie, the adventurous fire in you will never be extinguished." The King placed a loving hand on her shoulder as he handed her a much more regal looking handkerchief to dry her face. "You need not to prove it to some silly farmer boys."

"Yes, I know that now! I understand, and I have learned! Now that you understand that it was not Marie's fault, will you make Sir James release her?" Vanessa demanded in a hurry.

The King stared into Isabella's eyes for a long while before looking to the guard, waving his hand. "Let her go, Sir James. I believe my niece." He announced.

The force pinning Isabella to the ground was lifted, air rushing into her lungs much easier. Isabella sat up, rubbing her chest as it throbbed sorely. Vanessa launched herself into Isabella's arms, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"Alright, it's time to go now, Nessie." The Queen proclaimed, prying the Princess from Isabella's arms. Isabella did not resist so Vanessa was taken away easily, even though she thrashed with the force of a stallion.

"Thank you for returning our niece to us, safe and sound." The King said, holding a hand out of Isabella to shake. Isabella smiled with no warmth, grasping his hand and shaking it firmly. "Compensation will be offered to you for your efforts." He snapped his fingers and another guard stepped forward, opening a small chest to reveal gold coins.

The King scooped a handful in his hands and slipped them into a purple purse, holding it out in offering. Isabella shook her head. "No compensation needed, Your Grace. Bringing the Princess back safely was an honour in itself."

The King raised his eyebrow. "You are certain?"

Isabella nodded. "I have no need for excessive coin."

The King returned the coins to the chest and smiled wryly for the first time that encounter. "You are an odd one, Miss…?"

"Marie Jones." Isabella prattled off with casual ease.

"Well, Marie Jones, we both thank you, Esme and I." The Queen smiled at her for the first time that day as well, sincerity in her face. All apprehension was void from either of them. "Not as the King and Queen, but as a worried aunt and uncle, we thank you for returning our beloved to us."

Isabella nodded. "It was a pleasure, my Lord." She curtsied, holding out the ends of her cloak as she did not wear a dress.

"Alright then, we shall be heading out! Sir James, let's go." The King instructed, helping the Queen onto her horse and heaving Vanessa up behind her. The king straddled his own horse. "Goodbye, Miss Jones."

Isabella curtsied in response even though she detested it in her mind. Paying respect to the man who she hated with a vengeance did not sit well with her.

Vanessa stiffened in the saddle as they began their ride back to Grace Ridge. "Is she not coming, Auntie?"

The Queen laughed, still in ear-shot of Isabella. "Why would she, Nessie? We have paid our gratitude, she has accepted it. We continue on with our lives from here on."

Apparently, that did not settle comfortably with Vanessa. "I will not return without her!" She demanded. The Queen protested as Vanessa slid off the saddle as the horse was in mid-trot, falling painfully to her knees. The Princess stumbled forward and ran with all her might to Isabella, who was beginning to mount her own horse.

"Don't leave me!" Vanessa cried, slamming into Isabella's body. Isabella turned and picked her up.

"Princess, don't you wish to return to the castle? Clean up or whatever you Royals do?" Isabella jested.

"Not without you." The Princess stated simply, as if that were answer enough.

"Forgive me, Miss Jones." The Queen said, taking Vanessa from Isabella's grasp. Isabella obliged, but Vanessa held onto her cloak with a vice-like grip. "Nessie, you must let her go."

"No, I don't feel safe without her." Her voice was muffled in Isabella's hair.

"We have plenty of guards to make you feel safe, sweetheart! No one will ever touch you or ever harm you!" The Queen promised, stroking the Princess's hair with adoration. "Sir James is the best knight in the Kingdom and he's your personal guard!"

Vanessa shook her head. "Sir James gives me chills."

Isabella glanced at the blond-haired man with ice blue eyes. He stared back at her, leering with a quick sweep of his eyes about her body. His hair was slicked back and a scar ran down from his temple to his chin. That man was fit to belong with the other side of the law rather than with the Royal Guard.

"I agree." Isabella mumbled, although she hadn't meant for the Princess to hear.

"See! Even Marie believes so!" Vanessa gushed, clutching at Isabella's tunic. "He's obviously not a good guard if he let little me slip away at the crack of dawn!"

"Esme, what's the problem?" The King sauntered up, his armour clacking with each step.

The Queen eyed the pair with assessing eyes. Vanessa clung to the woman with such fondness and confidence she hadn't seen her niece show for anyone, not even her closest friends. She definitely did not feel as friendly with Sir James.

"It seems our little one has an attachment for her rescuer." The Queen noted with a smile. "She does not wish to leave without her as she does not feel safe with anyone else."

The King thought for a moment, which seemed to be a favourite pastime for him. His eyes bored into Isabella's as if his could extract her whole life story with a simple stare. Had she not been as tempered and trained as she was she would've buckled under his intense gaze. But Isabella stood straight without as much as a crooked grin on her face, holding the Princess to her body.

"How are you with the bow and dagger you carry with you, Miss Jones?" The King asked.

Sir James stepped forward. "My Lord, you cannot think to replace me with a simple commoner -"

"Silence, Sir James!" The King snapped, making Sir James stiffen. She doubted anyone could see the hatred blaze in the man's eyes as he stood rigidly. Interesting. "I was going to speak to you about this in private about the matter of letting our niece escape when it was your job to keep her safe, but it is obvious you cannot handle a ten-year-old! Now silence yourself before I have another do it for you!"

Though she hated the man with all of her soul, she could respect his ability to shut a vile man up with a simple word. She rather did not like Sir James already. His eyes blazed with animosity directed at Isabella and his fingers twitched over his hilt.

"Yes, my Lord." Sir James mumbled.

"Good!" He turned back to Isabella. "Now, Miss Jones, your ability with the bow and daggers?"

Isabella shrugged as well as she could with a child clinging onto her like a babe. "I believe I can handle myself well enough."

The King chuckled. "Better than you believe, I assume. You killed the bandits one your own, correct? Without any help from anyone? Quite impressive for a woman; to kill nine men at once."

Isabella nodded. "Yes, my Lord." She resented that at his disbelief of a woman taking care of herself.

"Can you demonstrate?" His eyes twinkled. "With the bow, first."

Isabella lowered Vanessa to the ground that backed away with a grin. The girl was excited to have the prospect of having a new friend at the castle to protect her, rather than slimy Sir James.

Isabella unslung her bow and plucked an arrow out of her quiver with ease, settling it on the string. She gazed around the horizon, looking for a suitable target to display her talents.

"Do you see the faun, about one hundred metres down there?" Isabella asked, pointing towards a patch of flat land were a babe deer was grazing without its mother. "Permission to hunt it?" Typically, hunting higher class game such as deer was poaching and punishable with her hand's being cut off. Isabella didn't care any other time; she was a criminal after all. Poaching was the least of her problems. She was in the presence of the King though, and was forced to put up the charade of a well-mannered peasant.

The King nodded. In a smooth, quick sequence, Isabella pulled back the arrow to full-draw and let the arrow whistle through the air. In a few moments, the faun tumbled into the grass with a groan.

"Fetch the faun, Sir James!" The King demanded and the suspicious man obliged, dragging the deer back by the ears. The King placed a hand on the animal, assessing the shot. "Clean into the right eye from one hundred metres. Impressive, Miss Jones, I am very much impressed. This would be lovely treat for Mrs. Cope. Good meat."

Isabella grinned. She loathed the man but swelled at compliments like any other woman. "Thank you, my Lord."

The King smiled in return. "Follow us to Grace Ridge. Perhaps you can take Sir James' position as Vanessa's personal guard."

Isabella thought the offer over. She would be forced to follow and entertain the young Princess if she so desired. She wasn't sure if she could handle the excess energy and enthusiasm that children usually had, along with growing up, mood swings and rebellion. She was the rottenest of them all; she didn't want to spoil a good egg.

But she couldn't find it in herself to care.

Besides, having full access to the Castle Forks would be the best asset she could have. Living in the castle would have its disadvantages of being tied to one place and obligated to certain duties, but she could plan her murder with much more detail. Places to hide, more private areas, schedules of the servants would be at her fingertips and avoiding costly situations would come much easier.

Yes, it could work.

Isabella smirked, the King not knowing her devious thoughts. "Why not, my Lord?"

* * *

**BRIGAND**

* * *

Isabella stood at the doorway as the King situated himself in his seat in his office, the guards effectively blocking the doorway to the room.

She smirked inwardly and found that she had been doing that a lot lately. She hardened herself, void of emotion. It was difficult, though, as she had plenty to be giddy about.

The ride into the castle grounds was magnificent. Every detail was burned into her mind; the hard training of the knights and archers, stable-hands tending the steeds, servants going about their daily business. Even from to outer grounds of the castle, the smells of the morning meal was evident in the air.

There was so much to be taken in consideration.

The King coughed, snapping Isabella out of her reverie. "Miss Jones, tell me about yourself." As he spoke, a scribe began readying his quill to scrawl on the paper. Isabella assumed there would be a scribe to copy records of her life, so she had prepared a false life story beforehand.

"Such as?" Isabella asked.

"Family, origin, daily routine…" The king prompted. "Who are your parents?"

Isabella cleared her throat. "I did not know my mother, as she died from the plague when I was just a babe. My father was a simple farmer but died from the flu some years back. I have no family." She lied humbly. It was not all lies; at one point, her father was a mere farmer instead of a high ranking knight.

The King softened. "I apologize for your loss."

Isabella shrugged. "I'm indifferent now, it was been a long while." Again, she fibbed. The fire of revenge blazed hot in her core, reminding her of her life goal constantly.

"Who raised you?" The scribe's quill scratching against the paper was loud in the room.

"My father's friend, my Lord. He was a gracious man who cared dearly for me and my father. He was a farmer as well, so I am no stranger to hard work on the fields." She explained. It was not a complete lie; to the knowledge at the time, William was a farmer. The King did not seem to notice the large gaps in her explanation, but accepted it.

He hummed. "Are you educated?"

Isabella nodded. "I'm quite fortunate. I can read and write. I speak a little bit of French as well. All with the permission of our Lord."

The King's eyes popped in astonishment. "_Qui vous a appris français?"_ He asked who taught her French.

_"La femme de William, l'ami de mon père, était française et anglaise. __Elle enseignais le français à tous de ses enfants."_ Isabella responded, explaining that William's wife was both French and English and that she taught French to all of her children.

The King smirked. "That's a very useful asset. Again, I'm enthralled." He looked through his papers. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen summers, my Lord." Isabella answered.

Again, the King was astounded. "You look much younger." He noted, scratching the scruff that began to grow in his chiselled chin.

Isabella smirked. "I've been told that I look to be about sixteen summers."

"That is to be expected." He said. "What were you doing?"

She frowned. "My Lord, what do you mean?"

"Where were you coming from and where were you heading?" He clarified.

"Oh, I was travelling. I don't stay in one place; it's not a part of me. I guess I travel to find some place to really settle down and be happy. Perhaps the castle and protecting the Princess is my calling. I was heading to Grace Ridge to perhaps find an odd job of some sort. I do that often so I've become familiar with many domestic and non-domestic tasks." She said.

The King paused as he let the scribe write furiously on the page, trying to catch up with Isabella's words. After a few moments, the boy looked up expectantly. Instead of studying his notes, the King glanced to the knights at the doors.

"Is my son here yet?" The King asked one of the guards.

The man nodded. "Shall I let him in, my Lord?"

The King waved his hand. "Yes, thank you."

The guard heaved the heavy door open, revealing a mean dressed in shining armour. He stepped into the room, copper hair in wild disarray and his green eyes piercing into Isabella's, alert and slightly frustrated. He strode into the room with confident and quiet purpose, bowing to the King.

The man was handsome, but no one could ever affect Isabella.

"Father, what is the meaning of this? I was in the middle of training my men." The man huffed. "Who is this? What do I hear of Vanessa being without a personal guard?"

The King rolled his eyes, which was something quite un-royal of him. He smirked at Isabella knowingly. "This is my son and heir, Edward." The King said. "Don't be rude in front of a lady, Edward."

Edward took notice of the girl sitting in the chair, taking in her cloak draped over her shoulders and un-lady-like clothing. She was not dressed in the typical garb of a lady; a suitable dress, hair pinned elegantly and pampered complexion. Instead, he saw the tunic, leggings and the unmistakable holders for daggers. Her face was smudged with a slight dusting of dirty and little scars ran down her chin to her neck.

He scowled. "I see no lady. I see a girl dressed like an unrefined woman who is pretending to be a man."

Isabella wished she had her daggers at that moment so she could plunge them into where his prize possessions were. "Awfully crude words for a supposed 'regal and dignified man'." She noted lazily.

Edward did not expect a statement like that. He stared at her in astonishment and then anger. "What did you say, wench?" His hand grazed the hilt of his sword. "You dare offend my honour?"

She glared at him and his hand. "What honour is there? Your silly toy weapons do not scare me, you barbarian-excuse of a man."

His eyes blazed. "I'll have you hung in front of the entire kingdom if you do not shut your filthy mouth." He threatened, unsheathing his sword with a hiss and hanging it centimeters away from her nose. The scribe and guards tensed but the King watched with rapt attention, smirking.

Isabella pushed his blade away from her face with the tip of her finger, looking highly unaffected. "I'll have your balls in my hand if you do not remove yourself from my person, Your Highness." She spat.

Edward was not against killing a woman had she stepped out of his place. With a roar, he swung back his blade and swung downwards, attempting to cut her in half. Isabella swayed to the side so Edward's blade cut the seat in half. She somersaulted off the chair to the side and the guards made a move to capture her, but the King held up a hand.

"Guards, please restrain my son and relieve him of his weapon." He instructed. The guards were shocked but held the Prince back, taking his sword away from his grasp.

Edward struggled in their grasp. "What is this, father?" He growled. "Release me at once!" He demanded, but the guards did not loosen their hold on the Prince.

The King stood and the scribe followed as well. "I wish to see this battle outside." He turned to Isabella. "I want to see your skill with the blade, as the bow will not save a life from close-distance. If you can beat Edward, my most skilled knight, or last at least one minute against him, you get the position."

Edward bristled and stared at Isabella with anger. His father interrupts his morning training, finds a commoner woman in his chair and is insulted by common trash! He wrestled out of the guard's grasp and took up his sword, throwing the door open and stomping out to the outer grounds.

The King looked at Isabella with a smile. "Come, Miss Jones. I wish to see you put my son in his place."

Isabella was surprised at where his expectations lay, though she could not blame him now that she has seen his son's short-temper, bad enough to rival her own. She followed him out the door, the guards trailing behind them closely. The exited the castle and emerged to the training grounds where men were scuffling against each other and practicing.

Edward stood ready, arms crossed and staring intently at Isabella. She ignored him and focused on the King, who took up a seat as a young boy scrambled to provide him with luxuries her waved away.

"Sword?" He offered, a page running up with a clean blade, sharpened and ready for use.

Isabella shook her head. "I would prefer my daggers, my Lord. I work better with them."

The King's eye twinkled in excitement and he sent the young boy to fetch her blades. He sprinted back with the two blades on a pillow, serving it to her. Isabella held both in her hands.

Edward laughed. "You really think you can face me with a silly dagger?"

Isabella raised her eyebrow. "Don't get such a big head. It's unflattering." She said as her hand went to her throwing knife and whipped it at him with a cobra-like speed. She sent it whirling in the direction of his face and he dodged his easily.

"Is that it - ?" He did not get to finish his sentence as Isabella somersaulted in between his legs and pushed him hard from behind. Edward's armour weighted heavily enough upon him to slow him from dodging her next attack and caused him to tumble to the ground, his sword scattering.

As he sprawled on the ground, Isabella smirked down upon him. Edward could have noticed the way her hair flowed like an angel in the wind or how the sunlight cast a halo-like shadow over her, but the rage at being temporarily-bested by a woman flared red-hot in his chest.

"You make it simple to best you, Your Highness." Isabella mocked with a bow.

Edward grunted as he raised himself from the ground, picking up his weapon. "Fight me, woman. Do not play these games." He growled, readying his weapon.

Isabella shrugged. "It is simply how I fight, Your Highness. You cannot teach a horse to jump with the click of the fingers as I cannot learn to battle the way you wish by your decree." She smirked. "But I can try."

Isabella stepped forward, bracing herself. She breathed once before stepping into a twirl, her top coat whirling with her. Edward brought up his sword to block her shot, parrying her off. Isabella went on the offensive; lunging, stabbing and slashing in a steady pace. Edward was forced to parry and block all of her attacks, gritting his jaw.

As Isabella lunged forward, Edward dodged to the side and grabbed her arm. He elbowed her hard on her wrist while grasping on the hilt of her dagger, prying it out of her hand as she gasped. He shoved his shoulder into her own, making her stumble onto the ground. He tossed the dagger far behind him, well out of her reach.

Edward smirked down to her as she glared up at him. "Fire gone out of you, woman?"

Isabella glared. "My Lord, is the minute up?" She asked the King without straying from Edward's face. His smirk matched his father's in that same irritating way that clawed at Isabella's innards.

The King glanced at the young boy who held an hourglass on a tray. Just as he scanned the timer, the last grain of sand fell into the bottom half. He nodded. "Yes, the minute is up."

Isabella smirked. "Good."

Like a cobra, Isabella rolled forward quickly, a blur to even Edward's perceptive eyes. She withdrew her dirk out of her boot as she somersaulted and slashed as she sprang up. Edward staggered back as he touched his hand to his cheek, feeling the blood drip from where the dirk had cut his face.

Isabella expected the Prince to roar in outrage or try to demean her, but he simply smirked and jabbed forward. Isabella parried his strokes until she found an opening as his arm whirled upwards from her deflection. Isabella slashed again, the sharp and specially tempered blade slicing through his chainmail and cutting thinly into his skin.

He did not stop, though. Edward slashed and stabbed, eventually cutting Isabella on the forearm on one of his blows. On his next swing, Isabella crossed blades with him. Instead of fighting for dominance, Isabella rapidly grasped the hilt of his sword under his hand and pushed it until the blade faced the dirt with the point, his arm twisting, and scooped it deftly from his hands, effectively disarming him.

Something he did not expect to happen.

Then Isabella began. She released her anger at being laughed upon by the Prince that thought he was much better than her. Edward had forgone his shield believing that he could best her with a flick of the wrist, but he found to regret that decision as the avenging angel before him slashed her way through his chainmail and into his skin.

"Enough, Miss Jones," The King commanded. Isabella could not ignore his command, even though the red haze that enveloped her was thick. Her hand with the dirk stilled, but she clenched her hand over it multiple times in an attempt to calm herself.

The King stepped down from his chair, smiling. He held his hand out to her. "You have sufficiently overwhelmed me, Marie. I would be a fool to not hire you to protect my niece if you can best my son like that in but two minutes."

Isabella plastered a false smile on her face and gritted her teeth as she took the King's hand, struggling not to plunge her dirk that she still held into his hand and end him that second. There were too many of his men, along with his son, to do any damage. She had no escape plan, either.

So she settled for clenching her jaw and shaking his hand much forcefully than need be.

The King withdrew and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, grinning. "Son, I may need to think about your position more if you've been beaten by a mere girl!" Isabella was about to take offense at that, but he turned and winked at her.

Edward's eyes blazed as he faced Isabella. "This is not over."

Isabella smirked. "I thought not, _Your Highness_." She mocked with a curtsy, holding the ends of her coat out. Edward stomped off in the other direction, shouting angered demands at a young boy by his side.

The King coughed, drawing Isabella's attention to him. "Why don't we get your living arrangements set up?" The King suggested.

Isabella was about to answer before a blur of copper flew into her arms. Isabella grunted with the impact and pulled back to see the little Princess in her arms, grinning up at her. Her heart warmed in a way that differed from everything else and could not be compared and Isabella, frankly, was quite surprised by it.

"You're staying, right? Uncle Carlisle said you guys are going to prepare your chambers, right?" Vanessa gushed.

Isabella looked at the little girl in her arms and in the direction of a fuming Prince, shouting instructions at some knights practicing against each other. The King look at her expectantly, a slight grin on his face.

A smirk she wanted to wipe off.

Isabella smiled down at the Princess for reasons that Vanessa thought otherwise. "Yes, I believe I will."

* * *

_**A/N: Is it just me, or is Daddy C kind of suspicious? :3 **_

_**So we've met Edward! How about a round of applause? *clapping* Oh, thank you, thank you. *bows* Mister Hunky Hunk will be a bit of a hot-headed stud-muffin (I can't believe I just said that), but I love a clashing Bella and Edward. They'll both soften like a god chocolate chip cookie. Yum.**_

_**BTW, I know the dirk wasn't around at the 15th century but I warned you of historical inaccuracies. **_

_**To Christiana: I know that you love to read fanfic, but it doesn't mean that you should read **_**mine._ I don't need you quoting my shit in class._**

**_To Abigail: You need to start reading fanfic again, little girl. Some of this shit is yummy. Ed Sheeran fanfic? Yup, gimme a plate of that._**

**_To Pia: I continue to fail to see how fanfic is a waste of time. Frankly, I believe that _not_ reading fanfic is practically a sin. Shame on you. Go confess to the Fanfiction clergy._**

**_To my anon guest #2: Thanks for the "dun dun DUN"! Here's to not waiting! *clink*_**

**_To Genevieve: I'm glad you loved the last two chapters! It's slow going right now, but things will be picking up pretty soon. I'm itching to keep writing, but school is on the front burner at the moment. Thank you so much for the support!_**

**_To frostedglaze: Yes, young grasshopper, there will be the little lemonades. As of Carlisle... you'll just have to wait and see! Bahaha, I've always hated when authors said that, it totally pissed me off. But really, you'll have to wait a bit for some answers. Thank you for supporting me through all of the two chapters I've posted! It's nice to have the faithful reviewers. :)_**

**_To everyone else: Thank you for reading! I'm almost as three hundred views; can you believe it? Please review, favourite and follow, it makes my day so much better since it snowed again in Canada not too long ago. :( WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME SPRING? _**

**_To all my sweet buns,_**

**_-A_**


	4. Scene IV

_**Scene IV**_

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO TWILIGHT. What I do own is a Roll-Up-The-Rim for a free Tim Hortons coffee.**

* * *

Isabella was – once again – situated in the Royal Office of the King, sitting in a new seat that was already present when they entered the room. The scribe was seated at his respective spot; quill at the ready as well as the swords of the guards. Now that they had seen her skill against their Prince, they stood ready for any action she would take. A blond man – perhaps still a boy – stood by the door as well, possibly the King's personal attendant.

The King glanced at the scribe once again who nodded his assent. The King coughed again, which Isabella took note of. If he would fall ill, he would be an easy target and bedridden. Perhaps she could go about the same approach as Sir Vladimir.

The King smiled genuinely. "I must say, Miss Jones, I am surprised to see a dirk at your disposal." He commented. Isabella was relieved of her weapons at the door as before, but the dirk was placed in front of her on his ornate desk. "Why would you choose such an exotic weapon?"

Isabella shrugged. What she didn't want to admit was that her dirk was a gift of her impromptu father as she left on her journey; before his anger at her was born. "Variety, I suppose. I have stumbled upon many trinkets in my travels and the dirk has simply stuck with me." She lied easily.

He hummed his agreement. "I understand. I have collected many treasures in my time visiting other countries." The King clasped his hands together, propping his elbows on the table and placing his clamped hands on his lips. "But shall we get down to business?"

She merely nodded. The King began bringing several papers together, which Isabella found strange and frowned. "My King, if I may ask…?" She started. The King raised his eyebrow but nodded nevertheless. "Why do this yourself? Surely you have chancellor to deal with such matters rather than spending your own time performing such duties." Isabella said.

He smiled. "Why, yes, I do have a chancellor. You are an unusual character though, Miss Jones. And you will be protecting my beloved niece, not simply tending to our steeds. I would prefer to handle this myself." He explained. If Isabella tried hard enough, she could be insulted by his words, but instead she admired the way he cared for his niece.

The King clapped his hands. "Down to business. As my niece's personal guard, you shall never leave her presence. You will have your own chambers, though, situated right by my niece's chambers. When she sleeps, you may sleep as well and Sir James shall take over your post. No matter what anyone says, you will not leave her side unless directed by myself, the Queen or my son. Vanessa is quite the persuader, so do not sway to her suggestions unless said otherwise by, again, myself, Edward or the Queen.

"You will be served three meals a day. Breakfast is served at dawn for the serfs and you shall join them. Vanessa's handmaiden will wake her an hour after dawn everyday unless otherwise directed, so that should be sufficient time for you to prepare yourself for the day. When Vanessa joins us for dinner and supper, you will have the hour to have your own meals in the serf's area or wherever you choose so long as it is on castle grounds and you return for Vanessa within the hour.

"In your chambers, there will be a bed with extra linens to be changed by the maid. A dresser is also set in the room for your personal items, which we will have fetched for you in the morrow from wherever your permanent residence resides.

"Vanessa also has her formal lessons with her Father Banner. You are to be standing on the outside of the room to not provide and distraction. You are to accompany her on any excursion she sees fit and you are to never let her leave your sight. I cannot stress that enough, as Sir James' lack of attention had caused her to escape on more occasion than I would care for."

Isabella stayed silent though his whole set of instructions, scowling into his blue eyes. The King stared back. "Understood?"

Isabella tried to hold back but her lips curled upwards in a smirk for a fraction of a second. If the King saw it, he did not acknowledge it. "I understand, My King."

"Alright, then, if you would sign here -" The King began as he slid the papers towards her, but Isabella stopped him.

"If you will listen, my King," Isabella started.

The King nodded slowly, apprehension flickering across his face before he settled. "What is the matter?"

Isabella smiled sweetly. "I understand your conditions, my King, but I have some of my own."

The scribe gasped and the guards held theirs back, though their stance tightened. It was simply not done. Simply interrupting the King was unheard of so demanding more of the King was practically nonexistent. The scribe, having been in the King's service longer than no other, never had someone contradict the King.

The King raised his eyebrow. "I will listen." He sat back into his seat, placing his clamped hands on his lips.

Isabella spread her hands. "As I have said many times, I am a free spirit. I am not fond of so many rules."

The King frowned. "What are you implying?"

She smiled warmly, hoping to melt his cool exterior. "Days to myself, my Lord."

He did not like the sound of that. Just the words rolling off her tongue made his cringe. "Explain." He commanded.

Isabella kept her smile plastered on her face, hiding her distaste at his demanding tone. She wanted to kill him for it, but it was not the right timing. She wanted to be able to savour it.

"One day a week – which is definitely not a lot – Sir James, shall take my place for the whole day on being Vanessa's personal guard. That day I have to myself, free to spend as I wish." Isabella clarified.

The King glowered. "None of my serfs have what you call 'a day to themselves'. Why should I give one to you?"

"In my time with the Princess, how am I supposed to keep my skills sharp, domestic or not? The knight's practice hard and dutifully while I watch over a child whose life is of the utmost importance. I must keep my fighting skills as sharp as they were when I was able to practice whenever I wished. When would I be able to do that?"

"The Princess spends some time with the Queen and I in which you will not be needed every night for one hour. That is adequate time for you to practice your skills as Sir James has done with the other knights." The King hoped that would be sufficient enough answer for her.

Alas, Isabella found holes in his reasoning. "Sir James was simply a knight, fighting with the sword and shield. I excel in swordplay, archery and several other fighting techniques. I wish to keep those in the best condition possible, which I can barely cramp into one day. I also create my own arrows; it takes several hours for me to create enough for a week." Isabella lied. She was proficient and skilled enough to make enough for a full month; she also had a special man with Ralph who knew the way she liked her arrows made. She simply wanted the time to be able to commit to her more dastardly deeds.

"We have a fletcher at the castle." The King said, hoping to sway her from her conditions. "He in the most skilled in the country and I do not doubt his ability to make arrows for you."

Isabella shook her head. "Even so, there is a specific way I prefer to have them made and I'd rather do it myself. You should understand, witch all due respect, my Lord, since you are dealing with this matter yourself rather than your chancellor."

The King mulled his thoughts over. He had to admit that he was favouring her suggestion. If she were to have her skills compromised by simply not having enough time to practice, then her position with his niece would be for nothing.

"So one day to yourself, used as you see fit. What if you plan on doing something frivolous? Embroidering or shopping in town is not what I expect from you." The King said.

"As we both said, it is a day to do as I see fit. You'll have to trust that I keep my skills about me despite what I do with that day." Isabella stated, sitting back in her seat.

The King leaned forward, rubbing his temples tiredly as he leaned on his desk. "Why must you make my life difficult?"

Isabella smirked. "To make my life easier, of course. My Lord." She added at the end.

The King stared down Isabella, who gazed back at him with the same intensity. The chill of spring air left a draft in his office, the open window allowing the air to enter. The crackle of the fireplace was loud as it fought against the cool temperature and Isabella thought she could hear the scribe gulp nervously. The knights slightly tightened their stances in discomfort, all of which Isabella expected. She knew that no one would ever challenge the King as she; Isabella doubted that the King's own family did not speak or defy him as she was.

The King sighed. "I concede, Miss Jones. You may have your day off. I do not trust Sir James with Vanessa for long periods of times no longer and frankly, your skills are very advantageous to have in our arsenal."

Isabella silently cheered inside and held back a smug smirk. Of course she won.

"Your day shall be on the Sun's Day when Vanessa will be with us for the most part of the day and you will not be as needed. If you must change days, you discuss it with me, my chancellor or head advisor, whom you will meet some time soon." The King stated seriously. "On terms of payment, you will be paid the same any of my knights and be provided the same supplies; weapons, training provisions, a warhorse -"

Isabella held up her hand. "No need for a warhorse. Mine is sufficient for me and much preferred."

The King frowned. "That beast barely looks strong enough to hold up a child."

Isabella clenched her chin, holding back a snarl. "The beast helped bring home your child so I don't believe I would be complaining, my King." She growled.

In the flash of an eye, Isabella sprang from her seat just as the guards attempted to grab her. Isabella swiped the dirk from the desk and weighed it in her hands as the guards levelled their weapons.

The King slammed his hand against the desk. "Enough! Guards, stand down! It is my mistake for insulting the woman!" He commanded, his eyes blazing. Despite the King aiding her, Isabella could not quell the fire boiling in her chest. The guards hesitated before taking up their previous positions by the heavy door, eyes blazing on Isabella. The King sighed. "I apologize, Miss Jones, for my guards' hasty action and for my ignorant words."

Though Isabella wished to stick her dirk through the King's hand that was place on the desk, she merely nodded. "Forgiven," she said, tossing the dirk back on the wooden bureau.

"So, no warhorse." The King said. "Now that that is all taken care of, I believe Mrs. Cope will be able to show you around the castle after your things are picked up from your abode, wherever that may be."

Isabella shook her head. "Whatever I have with me now is all I have. That will not be necessary."

The King scowled. "You barely had any personal possessions with you."

Isabella sighed in frustration; partly over the King's odd attention to Isabella's properties and partly over the King's seemingly unnecessary consideration to her. "My King, I do not understand why you care so deeply about my well-being and belongings. I assure you that I will have everything taken care of and I am capable of defending your niece. Please do not fret over me any longer."

The King softened. "I apologize if I have made you feel uncomfortable. It may be unusual, but I care for my people, including those working under me directly. If you can manage your personal belongings, then that is alright. If you need help, do not hesitate to talk to my chancellor or myself, if need be."

Isabella nodded. "Thank you, my King. I shall be taking my leave."

As Isabella stood, the King followed her lead. "Michael! Fetch Mrs. Cope from the kitchens and tell her that she is to help Miss Jones settle into her chambers and to familiarize the castle!" He instructed and the blond boy that stood by the doors scurried off. The King turned to Isabella. "You will begin your duties in the morrow. Today, you manage your residence and acquaint yourself with the castle."

The guards swung the large doors open as the King approached, taking confident steps out of the room as the scribe gathered his things and followed suit. When the guards glared at Isabella, she took that as her cue to collect her dirk and take her own leave of the room.

Isabella left the room and entered the adorned hallway, pristine and shushed except for the muffled patter of feet on the carpet and the bustle of servants keeping the area clean. Isabella watched the King and his two guards travel down the hall, servants stopping to curtsy or bow respectively.

She huffed indignantly. _Spineless slaves,_ she thought bitterly.

Isabella turned when she heard a cough behind her. The blond boy – Michael – stood uncomfortably with an older lady whose hairs have begun to whiten. "Sorry for the delay, Miss Jones, but here is Mrs. Cope."

She nodded. "Thank you, Michael."

Michael stood startled. He was present as he witnessed _Marie's_ skill with the blade, bow and arrow and was admittedly a little intimidated by the young woman's deadly ability. If she was so brazen with the King himself, then he could not imagine how she would treat a lowly servant like himself.

He cleared his throat, a flush filling his cheeks. "Well, you're certainly welcome. I'll be – well, going." He muttered, inwardly reprimanding himself for acting like fool.

Isabella was left with the woman, who eyed her with a slight smile on her face. "Welcome to Castle Forks, Miss Jones." Mrs. Cope started warmly.

Isabella let her lips curve upwards ever-so slightly before she resumed the hard line. "Thank you, Mrs. Cope. Please, call me Marie if you will. Might as well be accustomed to each other as I'll be around for a while."

Mrs. Cope brushed an errant strand of air behind her ear. "Well then, Marie, welcome to Castle Forks." She repeated. "I am in charge of all serfs in the castle and I also work in the kitchens, so if you have any problems, please don't hesitate to come to me." Isabella nodded. "So I will show you to your chambers, which Sir James has most likely cleaned out of his belongings already. Shall I have someone retrieve your things while I show you around the castle?" She offered.

Isabella shook her head. "I'd rather get them myself as they are with my horse that does not happen to be fond of strangers. Which reminds me; you may want to warn the stable hands about Burnside. He does not like to be touched by any other than me and will often result into a kick to the skull."

Mrs. Cope smiled wryly. "Duly noted. Some of the people in the castle do need a little bashing to the head, so I may send them to your horse anyways."

Isabella grinned at her words; she couldn't help it. "I'm sure Burnside would not mind it at all. He's a violent one, that is. I do hope he gets along well with the other steeds."

The weathered lady laughed heartily, ringing through the grand hall. "That reminds me of another soul that happens to live in this castle. You happened to fight against him his morn, if you recall."

Sir Edward. Isabella chuckled. "It would damage his pride to hear that it was not much of a challenge to do so. Perhaps he underestimated my skill more than affordable."

"Aye, that boy has never known what was good for him. But what am I saying? Look at us; gossiping like royal ladies already." Mrs. Cope jested as she led her across the hall and up a narrow, stone stairwell that spiralled upwards. She pushed open the door to reveal another hallway, doors on each side and a decent amount of light filtering in from the windows. She led Isabella to the end of the hall and fished out a key, inserting it into the door to the right, ignoring the guard that stood by the door adjacent to Isabella's. "This shall be your chambers."

Mrs. Cope pushed open the door to reveal a stone room. Isabella sighed in relief to see a window with wooden shutters, swung open and letting in a fresh, spring breeze. The room was small but large enough to fit a bed, dresser, a small bookcase – three books already on the shelves - and desk with a wooden chair. A candle lantern was perched on the desk which was graced with a quill, inkwell and a stack of parchment. The bed was bare of sheets or pillows but Isabella already saw the potential of a comfortable home.

"Sheets and pillows are in the drawers." Mrs. Cope indicated, stalking over to the dresser and withdrawing the said items and setting them on the bed. "You are to make your own bed as I cannot spare any more maids. Once a week, you may leave your sheets in the basket and they shall be cleaned by the maids. Your clothes as well." She pointed under the desk where a woven basket was at the ready. "No mending will be done by the maids. It is permitted, but they don't usually have the spare time to do any other tasks other than their chores."

Isabella glanced at the parchment and writing utensils on the desk. "What of those?"

Mrs. Cope shrugged. "I don't know. The King instructed someone to put those in your room, as well as the three books. Do you know how to read and write?"

Isabella nodded, not seeing the problem of telling her of her education. "Yes."

"Aye, then you are a lucky one. I can only read and write simple words." Mrs. Cope smiled. "Perhaps he wishes that you upkeep those skills. Heaven knows that not many around here are graced with those talents."

Isabella walked over to the bookcase, a copy of _The Canterbury Tales_ and two others that Isabella had yet to ever read. _The Wife of Bath's Tale_ had always been her favourite because of the man giving power to the woman, so it had struck deep within. The ending of the wife being obedient to the husband didn't sit well with her, though. Why does the husband not be obedient to the wife, she would ask herself. She ran her hand over the volume, stunned.

"We are fortunate to have a king so generous." Mrs. Cope said from behind her. Isabella's grip on the leather book tightened. "He always tries to do the best for his people and his kindness has no limit. I do not know a moment where he has not been fair and just."

_Fair and just,_ Isabella thought and inwardly scoffed. What he had done to her and her father was neither 'fair' nor 'just'.

Isabella slid the book back into its spot. "Shall we continue on the tour?"

Mrs. Cope led her out of the room, shutting the door and inserting the key, locking the door. She placed the key into Isabella's hand. "Here you go. Do not lose it; the only other copy is with our coffer. He's a stiff and stern fellow, so hope that you do not need to meet him more than need be."

Isabella strung the key onto her chain, tucking the cool metal under her tunic. Mrs. Cope showed her to the double doors that were directly beside Isabella's room, right in the middle of the hallway. "This is the Princess's room. As her personal guard, you do not wait at the outside unless she is changing or washing. This is Sir Ben, who is stationed by the Princess's room in the daylight hours. You will see Sir Eric station here when Sir Ben is otherwise in disposal."

"Sir Ben." Isabella said as greeting.

The man looked down at her before smiling. "Hello there. I hear you bested our dear Prince."

Isabella looked to Mrs. Cope. "Word gets around quickly here."

She smiled politely. "Aye, that is. It seems that the walls even have ears, so I often must watch what I let slip out of my mouth! Don't say anything but serfs tend to be avid gossipers."

Isabella's lips twitched. "I'll keep that in mind."

The two said their goodbyes to the straight-faced man and continued on their tour. Mrs. Cope was a chatty yet amiable lady who was truly dedicated to what she did, despite the employees being gutless lemmings. She showed her the pathway to the kitchen which was bustling in preparation for dinner. There were specific areas for Isabella to know as well; the Grand Hall, the dining room, the library and the floor with the many offices of the higher-classed personnel in the building.

But one important thing; Vanessa was not fibbing when she said that the support beams were perfect for hiding.

Mrs. Cope clapped her hands as they finished the tour, ending on the fields of the castle grounds. "That is it! Do you have any questions, Marie, before we get onto our daily tasks?"

Isabella shook her head. "No. Thank you for taking your time to help me out."

Before she knew it, the woman had Isabella's small frame in her arms. Isabella froze; not used to sudden affectionate touches and resisting the urge to flip the overly-friendly lady over her shoulder and into the horse dung.

"You are very welcome, honey! I'll have to be getting going; God knows that the kitchen is a mess without me." She winked and scurried off, yelling to the stable hands about the sheer amount of waste littering the lawn. Isabella fought back a giggle, liking the fire inside such a small body and finding it quite amusing.

Isabella stepped into the stables, mindful of the hay and dung on the ground. Little boys scurried about, scooping up the brown manure with shovels and dropping them into a wooden bucket. She felt the tiniest bit sorry for the young lads running about in this muck, but she found that disappearing when her boot landed directly into a warm pile.

"Oh, this is just wonderful!" She groaned. Quickly, she went to her horse in his own stall, munching happily on some oats. She studied him carefully and was satisfied; his coat was cleanly brushed, trough filled with water and his saddle hanging on a hook by the door.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A small voice said. Isabella turned to see a brown-haired boy with smudges streaked across his face and a bruise forming on his young skin, glancing shyly up at her. "I was told to put your belongings into that chest over there." He pointed to a wooden trunk in the corner of the stall.

Isabella smiled sweetly at the boy, a simple upturn of the corner of her lips. "Thank you, lad." She fished around her pocket, finding a couple of coins and flicking it at him. "For your good work. I also imagine that my horse did not give you an easy time judging by the mark on your face."

The boy caught it in his awaiting palms and stared up at her hopefully. "Really?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, really! Go on; take it, you more than deserve it. Do you have anything in mind for it?"

He grinned, missing two baby teeth. "I'm going to buy some nice cloth for my mommy to make it into a dress for my baby sister!" he announced energetically.

Isabella's heart melted at that; she remembered when Sam would work extra shifts at the local mill to purchase her some ribbon or her first hair brush. "Well, young man, I don't believe that a couple pence could help you with that! If you make sure that my horse, Burnside, has enough oats and water, I'll give you another tomorrow."

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Sure!"

Isabella giggled; his eagerness was infectious. "Okay little man, I'll be seeing you later. You get to work." She said, shooing him off. He scurried in the other direction, cheering gleefully over his newly earned pence.

She plunked down onto the wooden chest, scraping the dung off the bottom her boot with a rag. She tossed it in a little basket by the front door, glaring at it hatefully. Isabella threw open the lid of the trunk, finding her recurve bow unstrung neatly and her arrows tucked into the quiver. Her extra knives were polished in the time she was away and her pack of meagre belongings she had with her sat untouched.

One day, Isabella though, she would have to return to her little cabin and retrieve her more significant possessions. Also to ensure that her large coffer of gold was still there. She strapped her belt with the knife holders onto her waist and slung her quiver over her shoulder. Isabella slipped a little cover over the ends of her recurve bow, almost adding an extra string so she may carry her bow, strung, on her shoulder as well.

Isabella wandered about the grounds, watching the serfs and knights mill around as they went about their daily routine. The satisfying clash of metal on metal echoed in the air while the squeal of small children was also evident; two things she had never usually heard together. The scent of the bake-house and brewery wafted over to Isabella's nose, reminding her that she had not yet eaten anything in the last sixteen hours.

She strolled back into the castle, walking around aimlessly as she tried to remember the way back to the kitchens. Isabella opened many doors on the first floor, attempting to track down any heavenly smell emanating from the kitchen or dining room.

Isabella heard the yelling as she cracked open a door, peeking inside. "Sorry, but I am looking for the kitchens –"

She took in the scene in front of her with narrowing eyes; a lady - by the look of her expensive garb and neatly done hair – her back to Isabella and her hand raised the slam down on a trembling girl with tear-streaked face and an already red cheek. She recognized the girl; Vanessa.

Without hesitating, Isabella slid an arrow to her string and pulled back her bow, using the muscles in her arms and back to bring it to full-draw. In the matter of two seconds, her arrow cut cleanly through a miniscule chunk of hair piled on top of the lady's head. If the incision through the lady's hair did not alert her to Isabella's presence, then the whistle of the arrow cutting through the air was the dead give-away.

The lady jumped and gasped in shock, whirling to Isabella with a red face. Her fingers felt the top of her head, coming back with little strands of cut hair. She stared at her hand, dumbfounded, before glaring at Isabella.

"What have you done, you stupid commoner?" She screamed at Isabella. "That is my hair!"

She was unfazed as the infuriated lady fumed. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would not raise your voice with me; even more so if you would not raise your hand to a child. A princess child, more importantly." Isabella said coolly.

The Princess perked at the sound of Isabella's voice. "Marie!" She called out hopefully, running to her side and burying her face into her back.

Isabella knelt down to Vanessa's level, brushing her hair back and wiping away her tears like a favoured sister or mother would do. "Princess, what is the matter? Did she raise a hand to you?" She stroked her red cheek lightly. "What am I saying; of course she did." Isabella stood, a deadly look on her face that even made the lady step back. "Who are you and why did you dare slap a mere child?"

The lady bristled but straightened, tilting her head up in defiance and haughtiness. "I do not like your tone with me, peasant. Do not forget your station."

If the lady did not like Isabella's tone, Isabella despised her voice. She could strangle her for simply opening her mouth. "I would not ever forget my station, ma'am. My place is to protect the young Princess from any threat and to eliminate; you have attacked the child and now I have grounds to kill you." She unsheathed her throwing dagger.

The lady scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You cannot be serious."

Isabella stepped forward, getting close to the lady's person and glaring up at her with blazing eyes. Even though the lady was taller than Isabella, the lady stepped back slightly. "Oh, but I am _dead _serious." She stepped back, casually twirling a knife. "But I asked you two simple questions; who are you and why did you slap the Princess?" Isabella growled the last words.

The lady huffed indignantly. Was this commoner daft? Did she really not know who she was? "I am Lady Tanya Denali, the King's prized niece!" She flicked back a strand of hair. "The little brat thought she could spill tea on my dress and I saw fit to punish her."

Isabella laughed. "Do you believe that you happening to be related to a powerful man will deter me?" She did not let Lady Tanya answer before she twirled in a blur, sending her throwing knife across the room to embed itself into the wall next to Lady Tanya's neck. Isabella brushed off her leggings. "That could have been in your heart. Do not cross me or the Princess; your life very well may end by my hand." Isabella scoffed. "Spilling tea on your _dress._ You would think she murdered your cat."

She turned to leave with the Princess on her heels; her tiny hand nestled comfortably in Isabella's. She knew it was not the norm to be touching a Royal, she could not bear to pull her hand away from Vanessa's. Lady Tanya reddened in rage, stomping her heeled foot. "I will have you tossed in the dungeons, you common trash! You will not live to see the light of day when Uncle Carlisle gets you for harming a noble!"

Isabella laughed. "Oh, the King is the least of my problems. And did you forget that your raised a hand to a child that is practically his own daughter? Lady Tanya; I have not cut, bruised or even touched that self-prized skin of yours that could get me no more gold than a bear pelt. You have undoubtedly bruised the Princess's face. You will be lucky to even return to Castle Forks."

Isabella withdrew the arrow and knife from the wall with a tug, her eyes never straying from Lady Tanya's. Isabella curtsied mockingly. "Good day, my Lady."

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_**A/N: Slow burn, ladies. Slow burn. We'll start to get to the real stuff next chapter. I can't wait to hear about what you guys think. Tell me what you think will happen, what you want to happen... hell, maybe if I like what I hear, it may come up in an upcoming chapter. :)**_

_**To Christiana: Yeah, I know you're jealous about all of my Converse shoes, but you've got those sweet Steve Maddens that I can't find anywhere else. **_

_**To Abigail: Don't be a jerk. I wear my glasses to school ONE FUCKING TIME and now I'm branded a nerd when Chrisitana's the one wearing glasses every fucking day. God.**_

_**To Pia: Yes, I would like a hoodie from one of your volleyball tournaments for my birthday (which is coming up soon). BTW you owe me for winning the vocab contest in English class. So I demand green tea.**_

_**To frostedglaze: Yeah, I wish she could've shot James instead. He's a smarmy sonofabyotch but he's need for the future chapters. And just imagine that the faun and it's mother will be reunited in the afterlife. Sounds much better than being roasted in a fireplace. Esme and Carlisle are just about as nice as you can get when public beheading and burnings were the norm back then. Edward is a jackass right now, but he's got some problems in his love life. SHIT. Did I say that? ;) If Bella does end up ruling the kingdom, she'd do it like I would; burn it to the ground. She's connected to peasant life but she's a bloodthirsty bitch. I love her.**_

_**To Genevieve: Thanks! Yes, Badassella and Ragingward will continue. But you know another ginger? Ed Sheeran. He and I will never fight. Except in laser tag. That shit's too good.**_

_**To everyone else: Thank you for reading and let me know what you think! I don't bite. Unless you want me to. ;)**_

_**Adieu,**_

_**-A**_


	5. Scene V

_**Scene V**_

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**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO TWILIGHT. What I do own are three old school Tamagotchi's.**

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Morning light spilled through the cracks of the curtain that covered her only window in the room, causing Isabella to groan. She had set up a water clock in her room upon her bookcase, indicating that she had an hour before reporting to duty.

She slid out of the bed, changing out of her sleeping gown and into her tunic and stockings, tugging on her long boots and sliding in the dirk. She buckled on her belt and slid on her bow and arrows, pulling the cowl up on her cloak. Isabella had left the window cracked open at night, not worrying for trespassers as she was a light sleeper, leaving a slight draft in the room. She closed and locked her window, leaving the wooden shutters open to let light in.

Huffing, she scanned her room for any abnormalities. She mentally checked off her personal tasks; making her bed, tidying her desk, bookshelf and drawers, sweeping her floor and the menial chores that have been drilled into her head since she was a child.

"If only I was royalty… I would have my chambers cleaned with the flick of my hand." Isabella shook her head, grinning. "Vanessa is a lucky one." She said to herself.

As she left the room, she greeted Sir Eric and exchanged casual pleasantries. "_Where were you born? How long have you been in the King's service? Do you have any family? Stay away from Jessica's cooking."_ Things like that. She found him to be an honest man working to ask for one of the serf's hand in marriage. Sir Eric did not pry when she did not offer any personal information of herself and simply smiled.

Isabella strolled lazily through the halls, not surprised to already see some serfs getting a head start on their daily duties, sweeping the halls and dusting the prized trinkets set on tall podiums. She could not imagine the whipping that one would undoubtedly get if someone was to let an expensive item shatter on the floor. Suddenly, she was glad to be an unpretentious protector.

This time, she did not make the mistake on stumbling into the wrong room at the wrong time, though she would not object to putting another snooty noble into their place. Isabella grinned at the thought. She truly doubted that the King would reprimand her for how she handled Lady Tanya for he saw the marks she had left on the young Princess's face. Even if he did, she would not listen nor care.

Isabella pushed open the doors to the kitchen and was immediately overwhelmed. Dozens upon dozens of serfs and cooks bustled around, twirling and weaving their way around each other as they when about their tasks. The sheer number of serfs was undoubtedly unneeded in the kitchens. Perhaps Mrs. Cope simply hired them so some coin found their way into their pockets and food into their family's mouths. God knows that the King surely does not need the money. The smell of freshly baked bread, meats and fish filled the air along with sweat, but she was glad the bread overpowered the odour when someone was not close.

She scanned the room easily as other began to take notice of the newcomer. They created a wide berth for her as the avoided her weapons that she carried with ease and gossiped in hushed tones. Yes, she was dressed differently than the others; the woman usually wore long dresses with bonnets covering their hair. None toted any weapons except for the knives in their hands that they only knew how to use for chopping food. Isabella was in stockings, revealing her long and toned legs along with a tunic that fitted to her body appropriately. She did not wear any headgear other than the cowl that hid her eyes and her brown hair was only plaited, hanging down her shoulder rather than tucked into a hat.

Isabella could pick up what a couple of serfs were saying about and smiled. "No, I do not care for the usual serf uniform, nor do I care for rules at all. It has been discussed with the King, though, so if you want to debate about my clothing then you may bring it up to him." She stated calmly to a group of women glaring at her scandalously. She turned to a girl that was not paying any attention to her at all. "Excuse me." She said, bringing the girl to her attention.

The girl jolted from peeling potatoes and looked up with surprised eyes. "Yes? Ahem, sorry, I get so engrossed in my tasks sometimes." She apologized.

Isabella held her hand up. "Do not worry." She glanced about the room and say that others were still glancing at her apprehensively. Isabella sighed. "Oh, will you get over me? Go, do whatever you do." She snapped, shooing them away. Most were stunned at her tone and continued about, cursing under their breaths. "People can never get over something new. It is like waving a shiny object in front of a babe." She pushed back her cowl, revealing her face to the woman. "I'm Marie Jones. I prefer Marie."

The woman smiled sincerely, as if she found amusement in her words and was truly joyed to see Isabella. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Marie. I would shake your hand, but I fear that mine is soiled by peeling potatoes and I do not wish to dirty you. I'm Angela." She greeted, wiping her hands on her apron. "Welcome to Castle Forks. You are the Princess's new personal guard, correct?"

Isabella nodded. "It's been a pleasure to be serving such a lovely child."

Angela giggled. "She's a wonderful one, that girl. She does not have a selfish bone in her body, but she does have a healthy taste of mischief. I believe that the guards are getting fed up with her antics." She waved her hand. "But forget about my senseless ramblings; I assume you are hungry?"

Isabella smiled. "You assumed correct. What do you usually eat around here?"

The dark haired woman stood, weaving her way through the bodies working dutifully in the kitchen. "It depends on your station, really. The serfs like us usually have some dark bread along with a couple of pieces of ham and ale. You are classified as a knight as you take position that a knight would usually occupy."

Angela took a mug and handed it to Isabella swiftly before picking up a plate and utensils from an over-head shelf. She motioned for Isabella to do the same. "The serfs always go to Daniel and Celia, who cooks the breakfast meats and brings the rye bread respectively. You are entitled to any of the meats available and white bread, also cheese, fruits and eggs. Lucky you." She pouted as Daniel placed two thin slices of ham on her plate and two slices of rye bread.

Isabella stepped next to Daniel, watching as he flipped the meats. "Hello 'ere! You are?" Daniel grinned as he flicked a piece of sizzling bacon. She struggled not to drool as it popped and sizzled on the flame.

"Marie Jones; the new personal guard for Princess Vanessa," she clarified, her eyes never straying from the food.

Daniel guffawed loud and heartily, snapping Isabella out of her reverie. "Ah, I 'ear you bested even our great Prince Edward! Do I also 'ear of you puttin' ol' Lady Tan'a in 'er place as well?"

"Yes, yes, I did." Isabella said in a hurry. "May I have my food now?"

He laughed and placed several pieces of bacon, ham and fish on her plate, all sizzling enticingly. It was already all too much for her. "Good eatin', lass!" He called out as she walked away, munching on a piece of bacon.

Isabella retrieved her obligatory white bread, cheese, eggs and fruits, wondering how she could ever fit all that food in her tiny stomach. She filled her mug with milk rather than ale like others and joined Angela, who was sitting alone at her little table in the corner of the designated serf dining area.

"God in heaven, I have no idea how I am going to eat this all. I went about and they practically slapped the food onto my plate. You'd think that I'm out to kill them." Isabella grumbled as she unslung her bow and quiver, propping it against the wall close to her reach.

Angela giggled. "Maybe it is because of the deadly weapons you carry with relaxed ease! I'd sure do what I can to keep those things away from me." She jested.

Isabella ignored her, sliding a couple pieces of bacon and fish onto her plate. Before she could transfer a portion of her eggs, Angela stopped her. "What are you doing?" She said, trying to give back the meat.

"I can't eat this all. And you're the size of a twig I could break in half. You need to eat more." Isabella stated curtly before slapping the eggs onto Angela's plate and adding some cheese and fruit onto her plate, evening their portions. "There."

Angela reddened. "I can't take your food."

Isabella frowned. "Why not? It's delicious." She stuffed a strawberry into her mouth.

"I'm just a serf! I'm not of the same station as you are so I can't take your food!" She complained, though she was staring at her plate with hungry eyes. "I would be flogged, perhaps killed with my head perched upon a wooden stake in front of the castle if anyone were to tell the King."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you heard me announce that I do not care for these 'stations' and 'rules'. Just eat it before someone selfish does. I cannot finish all of it and I do not want it to go to waste." Angela tried to argue, but Isabella glared at her. "You dispute and I will shove a pig down your throat. Please eat."

Angela blushed and muttered her thanks, digging in with relish. She moaned. "Oh, this is delicious! I've never had bacon. Or eggs. Or white bread." She wolfed down another hearty mouthful.

"Never?" Isabella frowned.

Angela nodded. "I've been living in Castle Forks since I was a babe. Though we have been more fortunate than other serfs or commoners, I've never had anything other than the usual fare. I am grateful for it, but this is simply divine!"

Isabella smiled as the two finished their breakfast, chugging down their drinks. Angela insisted on clearing their plates since Isabella gave her so much food so Isabella was already ready to depart when she came back.

"Thank you so much, Marie." Angela said as she pulled her in for a hug. "I haven't eaten that well since… well, ever!"

Isabella let a slight smile rise to her face. "You're welcome, Angela. I'll get going then. Get back to work, you filthy peasant." Isabella smirked slightly to show it was all in jest.

The two parted ways and Isabella thought about the girl. She wasn't terribly thin, but she could use the extra meat on her bones. She's been to so many different large households and castles that she's lost count, but most of the serfs have been under-fed and unhappy. Angela was definitely not any of the two and she scowled. She was finding that the King was turning out to be much kinder than he should be, but that would not deter her from her goal.

By now, it seemed like everyone new about the newcomer to the castle and how she was so different. Isabella walked she halls, seeing how some serfs would huddle together and talk in hushed tones, glancing over at Isabella every so often. Some women would see her hair hang out freely and poke at their own headgear, wondering why they weren't like her and why they must cover their indisputably long tresses.

It was not that Isabella wasn't expecting the gossip; because she was. There were rarely any permanent changes or new comings around the castle aside from the occasional party or ball so Isabella was something they could speculate about. She kept her mysterious air about her but kept an intimidating, 'do not approach me' stance.

She advanced toward the Princess's chambers, greeting Sir Ben with a nod of the head that he returned politely. "Has she wakened?" Isabella inquired in a hushed tone.

He nodded. "Lauren and Jessica are with her now, helping her dress and get ready for the day. You may enter. But watch out for the handmaids; they are dreadful gossips and if word gets to them, it will spread like the plague. They also have a slight snip to their tone, but they have no bite." Sir Ben warned Isabella.

Isabella knocked and heard consent to enter. She pushed open the door to see three figures behind a curtain. She recognized one as Vanessa and grinned wryly as two voices tried to wrestle her into her clothing.

"I am here, Princess." Isabella called out.

"Marie!" Vanessa shouted, struggling out of their grasp and ran out from behind the curtain. She was fully dressed but her ties at the back were hanging loosely to the floor. "I missed you!"

Isabella chuckled. "I did too. Now, turn around." She instructed.

Vanessa complied and Isabella deftly tied the string snugly behind her back. She stood to see two women dressed like the rest of the serfs standing in front of her; long, modest dresses, smocks around their waists and bonnets covering their head. One stood respectfully and slightly uncomfortably while the other hand a hand on her hip, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Princess, who are they?" Isabella asked.

"My handmaidens." She answered, playing with her doll by the fireplace warming the room.

Isabella nodded her head. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Marie."

"Jessica." The uncomfortable one said, curtsying politely. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady."

"My Lady," the other scoffed, brushing back a stray hair. "She is not of noble blood, Jessica. She is a commoner like the rest of us."

Isabella glared at her. "And you are?"

"Lauren." She leered at her. "Not that I answer to you."

"Well, Lauren," Isabella started, stepping closer casually. She stepped back and cursed at herself for showing weakness. "I may not be of noble blood, but I am of a higher station than you." She lied. She was raised a commoner; born of a noble father and mother. "I do not ask for adoration but I demand respect. You do not cause problems and I will not retaliate or initiate any of my own, lest you do something I do not like. Simple, is it not?" She looked at Jessica, who squeaked. She was obviously not the leader of the duo. "Good." Isabella smiled. "Princess, are they dismissed?"

Vanessa barely looked up. "Yes, please leave."

The two scampered out, but Lauren glared back at Isabella unabashedly. She was undoubtedly not one to counter directly; most likely with snarky words to the other serfs or tampering with the possessions she could get her hands on that were Isabella's. She would have to watch Lauren carefully, though she did not care for the words she might potentially spread around the castle. Isabella was never one to care for other people's opinions other than the little Princess she protected.

This was odd in itself.

"Princess, we must be going. You have to eat and attend your classes." Isabella informed her.

Vanessa sighed heavily. "Must I?"

Isabella would not let Vanessa sway her. "Yes. But after, we may do something fun. I promise."

The Princess stood serenely, leaving her toys littered on the floor. Isabella frowned down at them and saw the girl walking away, waiting for Isabella to pull the door open for her. Vanessa looked back to see Isabella still standing by the fireplace. "Well? Are we going?" The Princess prompted in a slightly annoyed tone. Isabella tried to not let it affect her; the Princess was used to having her serfs follow as soon as she said so.

"Not when you haven't cleaned your toys." Isabella stated stubbornly. It was not her place to educate the Princess but everyone in the castle was easily swayed because of their spineless backs. She could not imagine anyone else defying the Princess, so she took it upon herself to coach the young girl.

Vanessa scowled in aggravation. "My handmaids will get them. Now, let's go."

"Princess, you cannot rely on your handmaids for everything. You must learn responsibility, and cleaning your toys is good practice." Isabella said softly, hoping that her tranquil voice would sooth the girl.

She expected the girl to put up an argument, but she just sighed and went about placing her toys into a trunk. Isabella was relatively relieved to see that the Princess obliged quickly rather than battling over a matter that could be ended in a minute. Isabella thought that the Princess reminded her of herself when she was about the same age; and if that was accurate, then she would not be looking forward to Vanessa's teenaged years of rebellion. If Vanessa were truly anything like Isabella, she would be as devilish as a hellion.

Then another question sprang to mind; would she be around that long?

Isabella did not get the time to answer her own question before the Princess finished; joining Isabella who was waiting by the door, holding it open for her. Vanessa stepped out and chatted with Sir Ben for a moment while Isabella closed the door and locked the chambers.

The two walked down the halls when Vanessa took Isabella's hand. She was not surprised by her open displays of affection for someone of a station like hers; she was quite used to it by now. "How do you like Castle Forks?" Vanessa asked, genuinely curious with an enthusiastic air rather than coming up with obligatory small talk.

Isabella thought for an instant. "It is quite extraordinary, Princess. I have travelled and visited many different castles, great houses and forts, but Castle Forks certainly is the best I have witnessed in my life. Most of the people have been welcoming and helpful and the grounds are just beautiful." She answered vaguely.

Vanessa beamed. "I am glad. Perhaps we can play that game of Hide and Seek like you promised before." She suggested. "And you can tell me stories of your travels. I have never left the country and I imagine you have."

Isabella nodded. "I have. France is a marvellous place, as well as Italy and England. It has taken me a long time travel to the countries, but it was well worth the time and trouble. I have learned and gained much." She has indeed gained much; weapons, poisons and techniques used by the French and Italians as well as English government. She had gained many corrupt allies in England. "The stories can be told later. Now, you must listen to Father Banner."

Vanessa groaned. "Father Banner is nutty! Absolutely, positively batty!" She exclaimed.

"Now you need to pray for repentance, Princess, as you have insulted a priest." Isabella jested. She would have to ask for much repentance if she were religious at all. Vanessa simply pouted. "He cannot be _that_ bad."

"He is! He has the temperament of a mule and the eyesight of a hawk! I do not understand how he catches me sneaking out! He could be as old as Lord Jesus himself and his punishments are as odd as himself!" She bellowed.

"He would have to be awfully old." Isabella joked. They arrived at the learning room. She pulled open the door for the Princess and they strode into the large room. "And you would not have problems with his punishments had you not warranted them in the first place." Isabella scolded lightly. She should not even be the one to reprimand her about punishments and tomfoolery; she practically the patroness of both. However, she did not wish misfortune upon the princess. "Remember that you cannot insult any of the clergy or the Lord himself, lest you wish for a worse penalty than before. I am not much religious than you are, but I know when to be respectful. Alright?" Isabella instructed.

Vanessa waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes," she said impatiently.

As they entered, Vanessa curtsied to a balding man who wore eyeglasses perched on his nose. His white garb was blinding to even Isabella's eyes as she sat at his bureau, writing on a piece of parchment. He glanced up when Vanessa's footsteps became known.

"Princess Vanessa, good morn." He said. She repeated the greeting and went to sit beside two other noble girls, varying in ages. The oldest seemed to, at most, be a year younger than Isabella. Father Banner squinted at Isabella. "Are you a new student?"

Isabella shook her head. "No, Father Banner. I am Marie Jones, Vanessa's new personal guard."

He scanned her before putting down his quill and retrieving a large volume from his bookshelf. "You are quite young. Young ladies such as you should be learning the Scriptures and how to write." He chided with the click of his tongue.

Isabella struggled not to roll her eyes in front of a churchman. "Father Banner, with all due respect, I know more than any of your pupil in this class."

"Are you educated, then?" He asked without looking up from the pages.

"Yes." Isabella answered stoically.

He cleared his throat. _"For I have promised to do the battle to the uttermost, by faith of my body, while me lasteth the life, and therefore I had liefer to die with honour than to live with shame; and if it were possible for me to die an hundred times, I had liefer to die oft than yield me to thee; for though I lack weapon, I shall lack no worship, and if thou slay me weaponless that shall be thy shame."" _Father Banner recited, studying Isabella expectantly.

She smirked. "That's a new one. Sir Thomas Malory, is it not, Father? A new writer who is terribly underrated, in my humble opinion._ Le Morte d'Arthur._" Isabella answered.

Father Banner's lips twitched before clearing his throat. _"Ah, how shameless – the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone, they say come all their miseries, yes, but they themselves with their own reckless ways compound their pains beyond their proper share."_ He narrated.

"_The Odyssey _by _Homer._"

_"Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." _Father Banner grinned mischievously, eyes glinting.

Isabella bit her lip. She remembered reading that passage somewhere, but she had read numerous volumes and heard countless stories that some were bound to be lost in her mind. She knew it came from the Bible as the word 'Lord' had stuck out like a sore thumb, but she could not place her finger on the what verse it was. Father Banner closed his book shut when the answer came roaring in full-blast.

"The Bible!" She exclaimed. "Isaiah 40 and I believe it is 30-31." Isabella said, confident. Father Banner gaped at her and reopened his book.

_"Let love steal in disguised as friendship."_

Isabella scoffed. "Father Banner, is that all you've got?Ovid's _Ars Amatoria; The Art of Love._" She huffed. "I happen to disagree with Ovid. There is love and there is friendship. They do not go together. Trust me; I have tried and it was been forced." Isabella's heart suddenly picked up. She had not meant to reveal so much to Father Banner.

Father Banner clicked his tongue and shut his book with a thump. "Marie, you cannot be so adverse to love. Though I am Catholic and I believe in God, Greek mythology states that man was born with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Man became so powerful that Zeus, a Greek God, separated them into two people, forever searching for their other half." He explained. "I have always loved that one quote from Plato's _Symposium._" He sighed."You may be opposed to it now, but when your other half appears, you have the chance to become whole again, whether it is from true friendship or true love."

Isabella stayed silent through his speech. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off, though the father did not take any offense. "I am impressed, Miss Jones. Perhaps you should stay and input your opinion and thoughts in our discussions."

She shook her head. "Possibly another time. I shall wait outside, Princess."

The whole class was in a state of awe when Father Banner and Isabella were battling for the upper-hand. Vanessa nodded, dumbfound. Isabella exhaled dejectedly and stepped out of the room. Would she become a novelty to the kids as well?

She had barely relaxed and leaned against the doorframe when she heard footsteps. Edward came into view, dressed in a simple fitting tunic and trousers, forgoing his usual armour and surcoat. His glinting blade hung on his hip and swayed as he walked down the hall.

The serfs in the hall curtsied or bowed respectively at the Prince, several maids huddling together and giggling gleefully as the stole glances at the fleeting Prince's behind. As he passed Isabella, she busied herself with balancing her dagger on the tip of her finger, ignoring his presence rather than acknowledging him with a curtsy. She was already in a less-than-preferred mood and did not wish to truly spoil her day with interacting with him.

Edward had other ideas, stopping and glaring at her. "What are you doing?"

Quick as a wink, Isabella flipped the dagger and caught the blade in between her fingertips, pulling her arm back and letting it fly. Had Edward not had his hasty reflexes that came as a second nature, her dagger would have sunk cleanly in the spot between his eyes. Instead, it stuck in between the crack of two wooden planks on the wall, right by Edward's ear.

He glanced back at the knife and to Isabella, repeating the motion until her attack registered in his mind. "Are you mad, woman?" He demanded.

She expected him to unsheathe his sword like before but he merely stewed in his spot. "I believe you are the mad one, Sir Edward. Why would you surprise a lethal woman with a knife in her hand? I could have taken off your head." She jested with a tone of semi-seriousness.

Edward turned and pulled the knife from the wall, slightly fascinated by her skill. It had sunk about six centimeters into the wall and was directly in the middle of the cracks, not touching either plank. Had it ripped through the priceless tapestry hanging on the wall, it might've been a different story.

"Next time," he turned the knife so the point was facing him, "you do not play around with your dagger as if it were a babe's toy."

Isabella snatched it from his hands. "It is a babe's toy to me. I've been fluent in swordplay since I was months old."

"Could your parents not control you?" Edward meant it as a jest, though Isabella's face stoned. Was his joke not funny? He didn't imagine a woman like him taking silly words seriously.

"I have no parents." She said, stoic. "They are dead."

Edward sobered considerably, mentally slapping himself for striking against a sensitive cord. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Isabella attempted to hold back the tears, but one rogue drip leaked out of her eyes. She furiously wiped it away with her finger, sniffling and surprised. She thought that the years she plotted and fumed was enough time to quell the sadness at her parent's death. _No matter how strong or fierce you tried to be, pain does not elude you, _Isabella thought dryly. Edward's eyebrows were furrowed and Isabella inwardly groaned. _He must think me soft and vulnerable._

"Are you alright?" Edward probed.

She breathed deeply. "Yes, yes, just… forget about it. Please." She eyed him suspiciously. "What are you wandering about the halls for?"

Edward huffed, pushing out his chest in boldness resulting in an eye-roll from Isabella. "I can 'wander' about the castle halls as I please, Marie. I don't believe I need your permission to do so." He found he quite liked the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. Then he scoffed at himself and berated himself for thinking such womanly thoughts. How does a name 'roll' off the tongue?

"It's Jones to you, Your Highness." Isabella snapped, using his title contemptuously. She had nearly said _Swan_ instead of _Jones_, but fortunately she had kept her wits about her. "I do not recall giving you acquiescence to call me by my given name like we are childhood friends."

"Well, _Jones_," he growled, "I don't like your attitude towards a Royal. Rid yourself of the snip or I will remove your tongue." He threatened, moving closer to her person involuntarily. He did not notice how he was drawn to her.

Isabella barked out a sarcastic laugh and stepped closer, getting into his slightly scruffy face. "I have been, inopportunely, in your presence quite long enough to learn that you are all bark – no bite. Why don't you bring your empty threats to one's who are actually scared of them?" She challenged. She could not help it; he was easy to rile and it was an amusing distraction from the dull ache in her chest that throbbed.

By now, both had slowly inched until they were separated by merely several centimetres. They both stood their ground, silently battling for dominance and waiting for the first one to back down from their equally penetrating, scorching gazes. The pounding in her chest subtly shifted from subdued sorrow to a sentiment she could not name.

Isabella remarked that Edward towered much more over her; nearly a head and a half taller. He stared down at her with blazing green eyes and Isabella couldn't help but notice that they were not the forest green she expected; it was much more along the lines of a sea green. She had never seen an eye colour quite like that. It was mesmerizing, captivating; hypnotizing. Her heart skipped more beats than she cared for and she mentally reproached herself which she found to be doing quite a bit lately.

Edward felt the heat emanating from Isabella; warming him to the core. He should've found her plain and unadorned but he saw something completely opposite; bottomless cocoa brown eyes he could drown in, flawless features and a fire that he could not help but burn in than quell. He breathed deeply and instantaneously regretted it; his nose was beautifully assaulted by the scent of strawberries and freesia, a combination he did not think would be appealing.

He swallowed, trying to expel the lump lodged in his throat. Isabella watched his Adam's apple bob and blushed, shaking her head as if to snap herself out of a trance. "Well, I -"

Edward was cut off by a high pitched squeal. "Oh, Edward!"

Lady Tanya, in all her overzealous glory, scampered to his side and attached to his arm like a vapid leech. She pressed her brightly coloured lips into his cheek, leaving a mark of her lips on his skin. The action made anger boil in Isabella, though she did not understand why. She just knew that she didn't like it and her hand automatically moved to hover over her daggers, wanting to remove more than just a couple strands of hair from the woman's head.

"Tanya…" He growled as he gently nudged her away and scraped the mark away with his finger. "What are you doing? When did you arrive from Denali Castle?"

"Oh, Kate, Irina and I arrived yesterday! You would've known had you not been so absorbed in frivolous activities, such as fighting common peasants." Tanya drawled, shooting a rapid glare at Isabella. Edward was occupied with removing the mark, so he did not see her open display of hate.

"My activities are not frivolous and Miss Jones is not a common peasant. Training my troops is of utmost importance." He argued. Isabella was surprised at him coming to her defense.

"That's good and all but – oh! Edward, my lip paint is fading. Can you fetch my lip paint for me? It should be in my trunk on the dresser in my room." She batted her eyes as he looked down at her with disinterest.

"Alright," he muttered and pried his arm from her grasp. He would likely hide with the kitchen scullions if it would get himself out of Tanya's grasp, so fetching her lip paint instead of having one of the serfs get it was a blessing. Isabella and Tanya watched as he ascended the stairs, the sound of his footfalls becoming more and more muffled as he disappeared.

Tanya whirled on Isabella, the look of innocence and giddiness gone and replaced by anger, apprehension and disbelief. She raised her hand, poised to descend on Isabella's face. She swung and slapped Isabella's cheek hard. Isabella had let Tanya slap her so she could grab her arm and throw her against the wall.

As Tanya recovered from Isabella's retaliation, shock registered on her face, then fury. She pushed herself off the wall. "How dare you touch a noble?"

Isabella laughed, void of humour in her voice. "Ah, you amuse me so! Lady Tanya, it was self-defense when you attacked me first." Her fingers found her cheek, feeling the heat of Tanya's slap. "You are lucky that you are too weak to bruise my face with a weak slap."

Tanya got into Isabella face. "I do not understand what you intend to do here, Miss Jones, but I highly recommend you avoid Edward like the plague. I will not have you stand in my way." She threatened, false confidence filling her veins. She did not forget their earlier encounter.

Isabella chuckled. "I am not oblivious, Lady Tanya. I know you are Edward's cousin. What do you anticipate to achieve?"

"I am his second cousin, you daughter of a whore." Isabella was prepared to smash Tanya's face into the wall but saw her smirk. She wanted her to react so she could tattle to her uncle or her cousin so she would have more fuel. There was no proof of Isabella tossing her around as she did not physically harm the woman nor did the serfs really care. "My mother is cousins with his. We are distant enough to marry without complications. The Church will recognize it."

Isabella could not hold back the shudder of disgust at the prospect. Tanya was right; so long as they were removed enough, the Church will marry them with little reluctance. It was not uncommon for distant relatives to marry so they may keep the Royal blood pure. She calmed herself, staring at a smug Tanya nonchalantly. "And this is supposed to affect me how?"

Lady Tanya was at a loss for words. She was prepared for words of defiance, words of wrath or sadness. She knew what to say that would put an interfering peasant in her place. She was not prepared for indifference.

"Because you feel affection for him. I can tell." Tanya declared. "Do not believe for one second that I did not see the exchange between you and Edward."

Isabella guffawed, loud and obnoxiously. Even some of the other serfs would have ignored their exchange turned to the noise, looking at Isabella with disapproving eyes. "Affection! Affection, she says!" Isabella gasped for air, brushing away an imaginary tear. "Oh, Lady Tanya, you amuse me so. Whoever mentioned affection?"

"Do not deny it!" Tanya screamed, hands clenching and eyes vehement. "I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice!"

Isabella placed a mocking hand on Tanya's shoulder, who brushed it off. "Then you are the mad one, Tanya. Do not attempt to see and hear things that are not there."

Footsteps fund their way to Tanya and Isabella's ears. Edward arrived with a tube in his hand, giving it to a silent Tanya. He studied the both of the women; his cousin, who was strangely brooding and Isabella, who was apathetic as usual except when she was being her snarky self.

"Is everything alright?" Edward queried warily.

Tanya adopted a grin and plastered an energetic look on her face. If anyone searched hard enough, they would be able to see that is was simply a charade. Isabella saw it easily enough. "Yes, yes! Thank you, Edward. I needed it."

She leaped into his arms, hugging him furiously. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her body, returning the embrace. Strangely, a whirlpool of unknown emotions swirled in her stomach, tingling and sending an uncomfortable sensation through her body. She watched their grip which felt like minutes rather than seconds; is large hands splaying on her back, her face tucked into his shoulder.

_"Greek mythology states that man was born with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Man became so powerful that Zeus, a Greek God, separated them into two people, forever searching for their other half._ _You may be opposed to it now, but when your other half appears, you have the chance to become whole again."_

_ "Because you feel affection for him. I can tell."_

Did she feel affection for the copper-haired man? She did not believe so; she had only known him personally for a couple of days, this being the second time interacting with him. It was impossible. Then she remembered denying Tanya's accusations of affection for Edward. Where they to convince Tanya, or herself?

Isabella shook her head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. "You're turning daft, Isabella."

She watched them walk away, Tanya prattling on about some matter excitedly in his ear while he led her away, his hand on the small of her back. Emotions swirled inside of her before she shook them away.

"Daft." She muttered.

* * *

_**A/N: I'll try and keep it short since my author notes are starting to become as long as the chapter itself. ;) I'm still beating myself up over last chapter. Talk about a bore! *yawns* I hope I didn't lose many of you over that last one. Things will begin to pick up soon. **_

_**What do you guys think? Is Edward an oblivious douchybag, or just ignorant? Lady Tanya + Sir Edward = Barf in my mouth? Is Bella a cocky prick? I'm eager to hear from you guys!**_

_**To Christiana, Abigail and Pia: We're all going out for McD's on my birthday, right? You're getting me food. Any argument is invalid.**_

_**To Genevieve: Yeah, I'm in love with this Bella too. I would totes go lesbian for her, but alas, she is an avid Team Edward member. She just doesn't know it yet. Thank me... Thank you! I'm so glad that you love the story and take the time to review. It means so much to me. **_

_**To frostedglaze: LOOOOOL I totally laughed at the celibate thing, and then hit myself for actually typing 'lol' in my author's note (I'm so unethical). Tanya, along with a few other people (one you might not expect) are going to make Edward's life hell, not just his love life. I also fell off my chair at the virgin thing. I'll ask Edward; I currently have him tied up in my room. ;)**_

_**To Edward: *rolls eyes* Stop squirming. You're not going anywhere, honey bunny. Do you want me to sic Bella on you?**_

_**To everyone else: Thank you so much for reading! Review, favourite, follow... it really lets me know you like it and gives me incentive to keep writing. **_

_**Viva la Vida (Coldplay all the way),**_

_**-A**_


	6. Scene VI

_**Scene VI**_

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**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO TWILIGHT. What I do own is an Ed Sheeran poster the size of myself.**

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"You got him riled up, Marie!"

Vanessa stepped out of the learning room, positively annoyed and exasperated. Other students began spilling out of the room as Father Banner was shouting instructions that fell on deaf ears.

"What have I done now?" Isabella jested.

"He began droning on and on about how educated you were for a woman of common blood! He taught us about Thomas Malory when we were supposed to be painting this class! Then he went on and on about how we were not as well-informed as you when we have had formal education for most of our lives!" She threw up her hands.

"I apologize for aggravating him then, Princess." Isabella said purely to calm the frustrated girl. "What do you have planned now?" She asked to change the subject.

"We have dinner with Alice and Rose!" Vanessa declared, immediately forgetting their previous conversation. The corner of Isabella's lip twitched with a smother smile. "Shall we go to the tea room?"

Vanessa did not let her answer as she pranced off in the other direction, leaving her in her dust. Isabella lazily continued on behind the young girl, confused about all the different rooms in the castle. Why have a tea room when you have a dining room? Why is there a separate bakery when you have a perfectly functional kitchen? These things escaped Isabella; she would never understand rich, royal or noble people and their need for excessive materials.

Two guards stood by double doors painted a light pink, pots of roses growing by each side of the doorframe. As they approached, the guards pushed open then double doors to let Isabella and Vanessa into the room.

Isabella nearly stuck her own dirk into her eyes when she stepped into the tea room. Everything - the walls, furniture and decorations – were painted either a shade of pink, white or gold. Half a dozen of female serfs attended the two occupants of the room, basically standing out of the way. A grand chandelier was hanging from the centre of the ceiling, casting a soft glow in the already bright room.

"Nessie!" One of the ladies squealed.

Vanessa ran from her spot beside Isabella and jumped onto the woman's lap. "Cousin Alice! I missed you so much!"

The blonde-haired lady raised an eyebrow. "You did not miss me?"

The Princess situated herself on the sofa as Isabella moved herself to the other side of the room, getting comfortable on the bay window seat. Casual chatter began filling the room. She unslung her bow from her back and set it on her lap, gazing out the window and to the court yard. The knights were still practicing diligently and more men were beginning to shoot at the archery targets.

"What is with that woman? She's unsightly." Isabella heard. She glanced to the origin of the voice and saw that the blonde-haired lady attempted to ask her question in a hushed tone. She supposed that wouldn't have heard lest she did not have her well-tuned ears.

"She is my personal guard." Vanessa announced. "Come, Marie! Let me introduce you to my cousin!"

Isabella stood, bringing her bow to where the group was sipping on tea. Vanessa motioned for her to sit on the singular armchair and she complied. "Tea, Marie?" Vanessa offered.

Isabella shook her head. "No thank you, Princess. Perhaps later."

"Alright." She said, pouring herself a cup. At least she was not lazy enough to get a maid to do it for her when she was already in close proximity. "Marie, this is my cousin Alice and this is Emmett's - Alice's brother – fiancée, Rosalie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Marie." Alice smiled, sipping at her tea. She was at ease with Isabella's presence but Rosalie squirmed in her seat. Isabella noticed this and could not stay her tongue.

"Is there a problem, Lady Rosalie?" Isabella said in a toneless voice.

"Oh, no, I – just…" She muttered.

"Do not be afraid to ask." Isabella prompted.

"So, tell me about yourself, Marie." Alice jumped in, saving the group from an awkward silence. Rosalie shot Alice a thankful look. "We do not usually get new additions to the castle."

Isabella pursed her lips, pondering how she would go about the question. "My parents died when I was a babe, so my father's friend and his family raised me like their own. I can read and write. I speak French. I used to travel a lot before I settled down here. If you ever wonder about Vanessa's safety; don't. She is safe with me; the King ensured that himself." Isabella stated, her voice remaining stoic.

Rosalie shifted in her seat. "May I ask…?"

"Of course, Lady Rosalie," Isabella responded politely.

"Do you not have a dress?" She probed gently.

Isabella smirked. "Are you asking about my choice of clothes?"

Rosalie opened her mouth but Alice answered. "Yes, yes we are." She smiled. "I do like your outfit, though I do not believe I could pull it off. It's not something we see on a woman every day. It's a bold fashion statement, I must say."

"It's better for a woman of my occupation." Isabella said. "You cannot run around in a lavish dress or fight with hair piled on top of your head. While I was travelling, I have learned many useful skills. I mended my clothes to fit better to my body as they were once men's clothes. I do not wear a bonnet because, honestly, those things are atrocious."

The girls laughed as the handmaids wearing said bonnets blushed. "I have never been a fan of headgear." Alice said. "At the very least, in my household, there is no need to cover our hair."

Isabella stood, putting an end to their conversation. She endured enough small talk with Royals she had no business with. "I will sit by the window. Do not mind me, but if you do have any question, please do not hesitate." She smiled. "You seem like wonderful ladies."

They blushed and muttered their thanks. Isabella returned to her spot by the window, settling with her bow in her lap. She watched the men below shoot at the targets, the Grandmaster of Archery red-faced as he yelled at the archers to shoot better. Isabella winced as most of the archers missed he centre of the targets by large distance; large enough to determine life or death. She hoped that they were simply apprentices, or the castle was in grave danger.

She watched as the same boy from the day before brought Burnside out for a run or to graze in the field. The other horses went about their business; other's being ridden by knights practicing swordplay upon a steed. She appraised each man, judging if she could best each in a battle. Then she scoffed. Of course she could best them in a battle. Why was she even wondering?

To her surprise, he came out. A man with bronze hair glinting in the sunlight emerged into her field of view, dressed lightly with a sturdy longbow in his hands. He turned so she could see his face and her heart jumped. Edward.

Then she mentally scoffed at herself and her excitement. "Daft," she whispered under her breath.

He took up station in the middle of the archery range, grasping for an arrow from the barrel set beside him. He placed it on his string ever-so slowly before using his muscles in his arms and back, bringing the string to full-draw. Isabella nearly fell asleep at the speed he readied his bow.

Taking a few breaths, he let go of the string.

Isabella burst out laughing and every face in the room stared at her. She coughed and waved her hand. "Ignore me. I'm going mad. Continue with… whatever you were doing."

The arrow completely missed the target at only twenty-five metres. Isabella wanted to roll on the floor laughing at his failure. The man believed he was such a hot shot though he couldn't even hit the target itself at only a few metres!

Isabella watched with rapt interest as the Grandmaster instructed him how to shoot properly. It took him even more time to ready his arrow on the string; enough time for Isabella to send three arrows flying into the bull's-eye of the target if she so desired. He let the arrow fly and Isabella let go of a breath she was holding. At least he shot the arrow on the target.

He repeated the process another five times, his arrows slowly inching its way closer to the bull's-eye of the target. When his arrow finally pierced the dot in the middle, he ordered for the target to be moved back to fifty metres.

Good Lord, his first shot at that range was even more awful than his first.

His first shot went about half a metre above the target, sticking into a barrel of water a serf was transporting. The arrow fell out and a steady stream of water spilled out of the barrel. Isabella choked back her laughter as Edward and the serf fumbled to stem the flow of water, eventually stuffing a rag into the hole.

Edward was evidently disappointed at his failures, though Isabella admired how he kept practicing his shots. Each one was laughable and his draw time was God awful. He could've been cut down half a dozen times while he aimed his shot. He groaned, running his hand through his hair.

Perhaps he could have a distraction.

Isabella unlocked the window, swinging the glass open. The slight chill entered, but was quickly subdued by the crackling fireplace. Again, every soul in the room glimpsed to see what she was doing. She huffed. "Will you people ever learn to ignore me?" No one looked away except for Alice, Rosalie and Vanessa. "Do whatever you people do. Just stop staring at me like dumbfounded fools."

Edward braced himself to take a shot and Isabella did the same in the fraction of his time. Isabella prayed that her aim would be true; she hadn't practiced her archery in a couple of days. She would have to concoct an excuse to get Vanessa to the archery range.

After what felt like years, Edward released his arrow. Isabella watched it fly and let her own arrow leap from the string, spiralling down to the same target as Edward's.

She heard Edward cheer as his arrow embedded itself in the bull's-eye of the target. The scene of his joy made something in Isabella's heart flutter, but the sight of his confusion was even more satisfying.

Isabella's arrow split right through Edward's, planting itself in the wood.

Everyone on the archery range glanced up in misunderstanding trying to find the origin of the rogue arrow, including Edward. When everyone else's eyes skipped over hers, Edward's eyes met her chocolate brown orbs in a second.

Even from the castle, two hundred metres away, she could feel his intense gaze on her form from the window. She imagined his penetrating emerald eyes; deep, passionate and captivating. His copper hair was in disarray like usual.

She had to admit that he was ruggedly beautiful.

From her place, Isabella waved mockingly. She couldn't see the scowl on his face or the slight smirk on his lips, amused and confused by the enigmatic conundrum standing at the window looking like an angel.

**BRIGAND**

After the commotion, Edward left the archery grounds and entered the castle. Isabella fled from her spot, taking a seat in the armchair she sat in previously, sans invitation. She didn't expect them to smile naturally at her or to include her in the conversation, but they did.

"Mother says that Lady Victoria will be visiting." Alice announced, her face wrinkling in what she supposed was dislike.

"Ugh." Rosalie groaned, which was highly un-lady-like of a woman like her. "Why is that wench coming?"

"Why do the sun set and the moon rise?" Alice shrugged. "It is best to not try and understand Lady Victoria's reasoning. She is already betrothed to Edward; I do not understand why she must visit so often when she is clearly not wanted." She crinkled her nose.

Isabella struggled to fight back the depression and anger at her words; Edward has a betrothed. Of course he would; he was a young and attractive Prince next in line for the throne. Then she chastised herself for letting her feelings to come to a high. She should've known that she would be disappointed. Isabella tried to brush it off as if was nothing, but she couldn't let the teasing emotion go.

"Why is she not wanted?" Isabella asked, genuinely curious. Not because of Edward or anything.

Alice sighed. "I do not know how to explain it. You must meet her to really understand the annoyance she causes."

Rosalie scoffed. "Oh, you do know how. You just do not wish to voice your thoughts, because you do not wish to speak against another noble. You are Royalty! A princess! Lady Victoria is not even King Aro's true daughter! She is simply his only female heir." She cried and leaned towards Isabella. "I am not afraid. Lady Victoria is a snake or the worst kind. She treats the serfs in the castle like they are scum beneath her shoe. She is selfish, self-absorbed and demanding. When she commanded to take up residence in my chambers, I was close to sticking my butter knife up her snooty nose." Rosalie huffed.

Isabella stared at her with glinting eyes and a satisfied smirk. "I believe we may get along quite nicely, Lady Rosalie."

Rosalie waved her hand. "Call me Rose. All that 'Lady' business does not sit well with me when it comes from friends."

Isabella wanted to argue but she couldn't, letting her mouth flop open and closed like a fish. She wanted to tell her that she is a fiend of the worst sorts and should not be 'friends' with someone of such a high-class. She wanted a friend, though. Someone who was not tainted and blackened as she was.

So she smiled instead. "Thank you, Rose."

"Call me Alice!" Alice said, wriggling her way into the conversation as usual. "I do not like the 'Princess' title either! Seems too formal, even coming from a serf! But they still call me Princess and whatnot." She pouted and Isabella had to laugh. Alice looked like an angry Chihuahua.

"Me too!" Vanessa said, joining in on the declarations. "Vanessa or Nessie is my name, not 'Princess'!"

Isabella patted her hand quickly before withdrawing. "When does she arrive?"

"Only two days' time, unfortunately. The day after she arrives, we are holding a ball as welcome." Rosalie wrinkled her nose. "I still don't understand why they chose her. She's only a pretty piece to perch on Edward's arm and not someone who will actually help lead the country."

"A promise." Alice muttered suddenly, too low for a complaining Rosalie or a cookie-devouring Vanessa. Isabella glanced at her and saw her eyes glazed over, staring into the flower pots ahead. Soon, she shook her head and ruffled her short hair, looking straight at Isabella.

"Alice?" Isabella inquired, curious about the Princess's attitude. "Are you alright?"

"You –" She paused, chewing on her nail. "No, not now, cannot see right now. Marie, can you pour me a cup of tea, please?"

Isabella was about to argue but she saw Alice's shaking hand and decided against it. She took the teapot and let the drink trickle into the porcelain cup, steaming and sending a heady scent into the air.

Alice took the cup and closed her eyes, attempting to calm her trembling hand as she brought it to her lips and sipped delicately. "Alice – are you sure you are alright? I can fetch the doctor if you need me to…"

"No, no, I'm fine. There's just a draft. Yes, there is. Jessica, can you place another log in the fireplace, please? It's getting a tad bit colder in the room than I would like." Jessica moved to comply. "Thank you." Alice said as her voice trailed away.

Isabella glanced at Rosalie and Vanessa, who were playing with each other's hair. Satisfied that they were sufficiently distracted, Isabella leaned forward in her seat to peer into Alice's eyes, trained on the saucer sitting on the table.

"Alice?" She whispered. Alice's eyes were, once again, glassy and faraway; definitely not studying the pattern of flowers on the tiny cup holder. Isabella wondered if she needed to bring this to the girls' attention, but Alice jolted in her seat before she could take action.

"Sorry; what were you saying?" Alice asked perkily, trying to mask the confusion.

Isabella studied her eyes which were alert once again. "I was not saying anything."

Alice fumbled to come up with an excuse but Isabella raised her hand to stop her. "It's alright, Alice. I won't probe unless your wellbeing is at risk. Are you falling ill? If you are, we should tell someone and you should get some rest."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, forget it. I'm fine. Just… don't do anything earth-shattering, okay? I don't know if my poor brother's heart can take so much than you will have to reveal."

"What –"

Before Isabella could finish her question, the doors flung open to reveal a rather flustered Edward, standing in all his rough glory and still clad in his light chainmail. He scanned the room before landing on the four girls seated in the middle.

"Edward!" Alice jumped up. "What are you doing? Your filthy boots will get the floor muddy!" She protested, attempting to push him out of the room but he stood proud and tall, not even glancing down at the pixie-like sister pushing on his chest. He stared intently on Isabella.

Isabella could not help but shift under his powerful gaze.

"What was that?" He demanded.

As soon as his arduous tone reached her ears, Isabella's sarcastic side emerged. "That, Sir Edward, is what I call 'schooling you'. Watch that expression become famous."

He scoffed. "You're ridiculous."

Isabella shrugged and sipped on her own cup of tea. "I have been called mad at times."

Edward couldn't help a little grin sneak up to his face and coughed to hide it. He finally noticed a little poking at his side and looked down to see Alice jabbing her finger into his side, smirking up at him. "What?" He snapped.

"Oh, nothing…" She drawled in a sing-song voice. "It's just that it doesn't take someone with exceptional _eyesight _to see you falling for Miss Jones over there." Alice said.

He brushed her off. "Jones, I believe your ridiculousness is contagious. It seems Alice has caught your annoying disease." Edward called out, striding to the bay window which Isabella had shot from. "Is this where your demon arrow came down from?"

Isabella laughed. "Demon arrow? You are just angered by my superior archery skill." She smirked smugly. "Do not fret, Sir Edward; it does not come to some people. For others; it is simply talent."

Edward ignored her words, peeking out to the archery range where his men were still shooting. "This has to be at least a hundred and fifty metres. Most likely two hundred." He mumbled.

She tipped back her teacup, draining the last of her tea. "Yes, so?"

He whirled on her. "How did you do it?"

Isabella busied herself with pouring another cup. "Well, it's really simple to do. You need to – What? Edward, release me this instant!" She yelled. Edward had snatched her up from her seat and dragged her a couple paces before she stepped forward once and elbowed him forcefully in the stomach.

Thankfully, Edward had toned and muscled abdomen muscles (which Isabella discerned in the back of her mind) along with his light chainmail so she did not harm him much. Edward turned wildly and grasped his hair with his hands, pulling on the strands. "What?" He growled.

"You cannot simply kidnap me. What do you want?" Isabella stomped her foot, crossing her arms.

Edward tugged harder on his bronze locks and Isabella wondered if the man would rip the strands right from his scalp. He muttered under his breath angrily and Isabella picked up words like "insufferable", "infuriating" and "wench". She watched him, amused by his inner turmoil while Edward was wondering why Isabella could not simply shut her mouth and be obedient for once. He glanced balefully in her direction once and knew that she would be the cause for premature grey hairs.

He rubbed his hands on his face tiredly. "Why will you not heed my words for once?"

Isabella laughed and Edward's heart thumped harder at the bell-like sound. He gulped once again. "Oh, Sir Edward, when have I 'heeded' your words? If you would merely _use_ your words instead of expecting me to follow, then we would not have this problem."

He sighed. It was one thing to have a common woman to teach him the techniques of archery, but it was another to have to admit it aloud. Then he corrected himself. _No, Jones is definitely anything _but_ common._ Edward thought dryly. "Fine," Edward snapped but continued in a small voice. "Jones… willyouteachmehowtoshootabowandanarrowproperly?" He grumbled all in one breathe.

Isabella smirked complacently, something both she and Edward were getting used to. "Pardon me, Sir Edward? I could not understand your words over the bruised ego."

The nerve of the wench! She was mocking him at his lowest point! "Will you teach me how to shoot a bow and an arrow properly!?" Edward roared, face red and fury boiling. Isabella smiled innocently as if she did not poke an angry bear with a stick. Male pride was a sensitive spot in a man and she loved to tease it.

"Of course, Sir Edward, I would be my _honour_ to teach you how to shoot a bow and an arrow properly." Isabella said mockingly. "Only if the young Princess is alright with it, as I cannot leave her presence. Would you like to watch me 'school' your dear cousin, Princess Vanessa?"

Edward and Isabella turned the three girls watching the exchange from the seating area, all wearing the same amused and devious knowing expressions on their face. Isabella noticed the slight veneer over Alice's eyes again who shook it off and smirked meaningfully.

Vanessa jumped down from the couch and went over to Isabella, grasping her hand. "I would love to watch you… what did you say? Oh yes; _school_ Edward. It should be lovely entertainment." Vanessa poured on snooty accent.

"Sir Edward? Be a gentleman and get my bow, will you?" Isabella batted her eyes, making Edward groan. He was already on his knees to her, so why not fetch her things like a pack mule?

"I bet this is how Michael feels." Edward noted ruefully. "Fetching people's belongings like a battered slave."

"Then you should treat him better." Isabella threw over her shoulder as they left the room. She took note of the squeals and chatter that exploded in the tea room when the guards closed the double doors behind them. Isabella briefly questioned what that might've been about, but dismissed it just as hastily.

The three exited the castle and emerged on the castle grounds, the serfs and knights present immediately bowing or curtsying respectively to the Royals that passed by. Vanessa waved politely while Edward nodded his acknowledgement, dismissing them off back to their duties. They approached the archery range and Vanessa took a seat on a bale of hay, talking cheerfully with a little boy polishing horseshoes.

"Back again so quickly, Sir Edward?" A man in his mid-forties said, grinning. His slicked back hair was appalling and his beard was not something to be envied. She wondered how the Grandmaster of Archery had let himself slip so much.

He nodded. "With a guest who may help."

The Grandmaster of Archery finally acknowledged Isabella, scanning her from top to bottom. His sleazy scrutinising made Isabella uncomfortable, but she held her ground under his heavy gaze. After a minute of studying, the Grandmaster jeered. "If you do not improve much with my help, do not get your hopes up with…"

"Miss Jones." Isabella stated in a monotonous voice, not even offering her first name.

He sneered at her. "Do not get your hopes up with _Miss_ Jones."

The Grandmaster walked away, yelling at some poor sap that happened to be at the butt-end of his fury. Isabella turned to Edward, hand outstretched for her bow. "He's an awfully sexist fellow, is he not?" She noted as he handed her recurve bow. "Reminds me quite a bit of someone else I had just met."

Edward chuckled. "Who could it be?" He jested before turning to the ranger beside to his right, Isabella taking up the station to his left. "Crowley! Get Vanessa a suitable place to sit other than that haystack!" He commanded and the dark-haired boy hurried to obey.

"Good God, Sir Edward, would it kill you to be nicer to your fellow knights?" Isabella joked, readying one of her own arrows from her quiver on the string of her bow instead of the standard arrows in the barrel beside her.

He frowned. "There are arrows supplied for you to use." He said, plucking an arrow out of his respective holder.

"Yes, but they are not made how I like." She answered coolly, not even blinking as she pulled the string back to full-draw. "What is the Grandmaster's name?"

Edward attempted to steady his arrow on the string as he pulled the string back. "Grandmaster Harrison. Why?"

"Watch." Isabella said instead. "Hey! Grandmaster Harrison! Come here!" She yelled.

The rat-like man turned his head to the vice calling his name before mentally groaning. What does the wench want now? He truly could not wait until retirement; he would receive prestige, money and most of all; a cabin far, far away from the spoilt nobles and annoying common serfs working at the castle. Had he not want to tend to his own chambers, he would have forgone the filthy commoners.

"What must you want now?" He snapped as he came closer. "I have troops to train!"

"Since you believe that I cannot shoot an arrow, I would like to challenge you to a shoot-off." Isabella proposed, relaxing the arrow on her arrow.

The man roared in laughter, doubling over. Did she really believe she could best him? He was Grandmaster of Archery for a reason! "Oh, Miss Jones, are you mad? Do you truly believe you can best me in an archery contest? Is besting Sir Edward not enough for you?"

Edward growled at his words but Isabella stopped him. "I have been called mad many times, Grandmaster. Perhaps I am. But I would still like to challenge you."

Edward grabbed her forearm, dragging her back a couple of metres. "Are you out of your mind, Jones? What are you doing?" He barked into her ear.

Isabella pushed him away, rubbing her forearm. "Jesus, Sir Edward, no need to snap my arm off." Edward threw up his arms in exasperation. "Alright! Calm yourself. I am awfully tired of men underestimating my skill because I am a woman. It is sickening and I will get the respect I deserve, even if it means gambling my belongings." She smirked. "I do not plan on losing, though. Prepare to carry his equipment to my chambers."

He grasped her arm again. "Jones, Harrison has been shooting a bow and arrow for more years than you live! How do you expect to win?"

She snatched herself out of his grip, glaring up at his sea green eyes. "I despise your lack of faith in me, Sir Edward. Was it not that pride and low-expectations of my skill that had you lying on the grass, at the mercy of my blade? Do you not remember all the blows I inflicted on your body?" She snarled.

Edward stepped back in surprise. He gaped once, twice, thrice and realized that she was right. He huffed. "Yes. Fine, but do not make this a habit. Can't have you taking everyone's possessions because of your need to prove yourself."

Isabella grinned. "I believe I should've taken your armour and sword."

He reddened in anger. "Do not push me, Jones."

"Fine," She harrumphed, turning back to the Grandmaster who was picking his teeth with his dagger. Isabella inwardly shuddered before clearing her throat. The Grandmaster jolted, fumbling to hide his actions. "The challenge still stands." She told Harrison.

"Alright then," He said loudly. "I accept your challenge." By now, most of the rangers had stopped shooting to watch the exchange. "What are the terms?"

"Same as anything. Whoever bests the other wins the other's weapon." Isabella clarified. "Ten shots each. Fifty metre increments. The loser is the one who misses two consecutive shots?"

The Grandmaster nodded his head in acceptance, yelling at a young man to retrieve his bow. Isabella waited patiently at her station as the Grandmaster strung his heavier-than-standard longbow in the station to her right, where Edward was previously. The others began to crowd around the two, murmuring about who many win. Isabella grinned when she saw coins exchanging hands. Men would always be men and they loved to gamble.

"Ready, Grandmaster?" Isabella asked as she withdrew an arrow from her quiver.

He narrowed his eyes. "No, we use the same arrows."

The Grandmaster was ready for an argument but Isabella simply shrugged and put her arrow back into her quiver and exchanged it for the standard arrow in the barrel. Edward stood dumbfounded; she had actually listened without disagreement or snippiness.

A man counted down before shouting the commencement. Isabella, with graceful ease, took an arrow from her barrel and pulled it back, letting it fly without so much as a hesitance. Edward was sure that she would miss, but it flew down the field and smacked in the centre of the bull's-eye with a satisfying thud. The Grandmaster's arrow followed soon after, thudding into the middle his own target. A low mumble rippled through the crowd; impressed by her speed.

"Getting old, Grandmaster?" Isabella taunted innocently.

He growled in response. He would have to use more skill than he thought. "No. Norman, Smith, move it up to one hundred!"

Two men raced across the field (presumably Norman and Smith), dragging the targets back until the coincided with the markers that indicated the right distance. They hurried off the line of shooting, ready at the sidelines. At the caller's prompt, Isabella repeated her fluid movements, sending the arrow cleanly into the wooden targets. This continued each shot; Isabella would send her arrow flying faster than the Grandmaster, it would land in the dead-centre of the red dot and a hum would erupt through the crowd. With each shot, the Grandmaster became more and more frustrated that she could shoot faster and cleaner than he – he has been doing it since he was a child.

It wasn't until the sixth shot that the routine began to change. At the three hundred metre mark, the Grandmaster was sure he would win at this shot. He let his arrow fly, surprised that it was before Isabella's. It sunk into the third ring of the target; not too bad. His pride flared when he saw that Isabella's shot missed, landing into the grass centimetres from the target.

A louder croon rippled through the throng of men, already exchanging more coins. The Grandmaster preened. He would win and put the filthy, egotistical woman in her place. How could she even think she could win? He glanced over to Isabella, her face void of emotion. Inside, he bet that she was despairing.

Norman and Smith moved the target back to three hundred and fifty metres. No one had ever shot this far and hit the bull's eye, not even the Grandmaster. He did not care though, as Isabella would miss and he would win. He would most likely sell her bow and arrows; he had no need for them other than the pretty coin it would place in his purse.

"Ready," Isabella and Harrison pulled back their strings, arrows perched on the cord. "Release!" Grandmaster Harrison let his arrow go and it sailed through the air, gracefully spiralling. As expected, it cruised right past the target and planted itself in the dirt not too far away.

Harrison did not notice Isabella's arrow until the crowd inhaled. He whirled to see that it was still shaking from its impact in the fourth ring. It was far from the target, but it was still on the wooden target.

Isabella smirked at him.

Grandmaster Harrison gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a babe's mouth. She had not missed!

"You will catch bug that way, Grandmaster Harrison. Four hundred metres?" She offered. He did not say anything, so she sighed. "Put the targets at four hundred metres, please!" Norman and Smith shook out of their shock and raced to place the targets at the faded line that was never repainted.

Isabella knew it was over. She would win. And she did, when the Grandmaster's arrow missed by a metre and her arrow planted itself in the fifth ring.

"I win." Isabella announced and grinned at the massive amounts of coin exchanging hands and the groans of the losers. "And just to make sure this gets through your head – Norman, place it at the five hundred mark!" He complied, confusion on his face.

Isabella swiftly and gracefully pulled back to full draw and let an arrow go in a smooth movement. She was worried that the Grandmaster's eyes would pop and roll out of his head when the arrow landed in the red dot in the middle of the target.

She turned to him, a triumphant look on her face. "Do not underestimate a woman. I'll be taking that bow of yours."

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_**A/N: Sorry about the late update guys! I could make excuses but nah. I won't.**_

_**In exchange, though, we're going to DP. ;)**_

_**What? No!**_

_**We're double posting today! God, get your head out of the gutter! Yesterday was my birthday so this will be our little belated birthday celebration. :) Maybe you guys can review as my present?**_

_**To Sunflower2009: Welcome, newcomer! Strap in and get ready. You're in for a ride. Yes, Bella is having foreign feelings that don't have a green card yet. Bella's a random spit-fire; who knows how she'll react? I don't even know. :P Tanya's death is solely in Bella's hands and in my keyboard. We'll see what she comes up with.**_

_**To everyone else: Thanks for reading! Look forward to another chapter later tonight!**_

_**Go read Dramione fanfic too,**_

_**-A**_


	7. Scene VII

_**Scene VII**_

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_**Previously on A is a Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire...**_

_**A- "We're double posting today!"**_

_**And I lied. Posting today. Because I fail like that. :P**_

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO TWILIGHT. What I do own is a sticky delete key. The letters know I'm deleting them. O.o**

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"Good God, I am so glad that we managed to escape the castle before Her Heinous arrived." Alice exhaled.

After the shooting competition between Isabella and the Grandmaster of Archery, a serf was sent down with a message to Vanessa. Isabella barely had any time to prepare herself before the Princess sprang up in a fit of excitement and insisted that they head back up to her chambers to arrange her things for a last-minute expedition down to Angeles Village, the largest shopping destination in the country of Forks because of its location close to Port Angeles; the docking station of many cargo ships.

Vanessa had to battle Edward for Isabella's time and attention as Vanessa desperately wanted to shop while Edward was begging Isabella to show him how to shoot as well as she had (perhaps not in those words as Edward had clenched his teeth and hissed out reasons why it was more important to help him). It was a narrow battle but Isabella's duties lay with the Princess. She told him just that; as result, he stalked off to stew with his fellow knights and to pathetically shoot at the archery targets.

Isabella couldn't help but laugh at his failures. It was just who she was.

Apparently Lady Victoria had arrived the same time their carriage had left the castle grounds. Isabella had caught a flash of fire-red hair as she stepped out of the carriage with a long, elegant flowing dress trailing out behind her. If it were her style, she would've been jealous. It was simply too ostentatious for her tastes, though. Her comfortable tunic, leggings and cloak that still covered her eyes did wonders for her.

"Yes, good call, Alice. You always seem to have the right timing for these things." Rose complimented, not taking notice of the panicked flush on the face of sister-to-be. "I still wonder how you do it. Perhaps you could predict when a large sale on high-class fabrics comes on sale." She sighed dreamily.

"I would love to get some fabric for Auntie Esme." Vanessa added in pensively. "Carmen is still trying to teach me how to embroider and sew, though it's not as great as I thought it would be, just sitting around and tailoring pieces of cloth for nothing. I would like to believe that it would be funner to do it for someone else."

"It's _more fun_, Vanessa, not _funner_." Alice corrected with an affectionate pat on the knee.

The Princess waved her hand dismissively. "Either way, it should be more amusing than just 'doing it'. I think it'd work out better if I knew it was going to someone who meant something to me, right?"

"Then why are you not making something for me? Do I mean nothing to you?" Rosalie teased, poking her in the side. "I'm hurt, Nessie. Positively wounded."

"As am I," Alice huffed, crossing her arms in a childish manner. "Do you not remember all the times I changed your undergarments as a babe, Nessie? Auntie Esme, Rose and I almost never let you out of our sights and always changed your soiled clothing instead of the handmaids and you don't even make us something small in exchange? I am disappointed in you, Vanessa Cullen." She let out in one breath.

"If it gets you to quit breathing down my neck about it, then fine! Do not complain when you can't identify what I embroider onto your handkerchiefs." Vanessa jested and turned to Isabella. "Would you like one too, Marie?"

Isabella smiled gently at the sweet Princess. She had met dignitaries of other countries and mere nobles and was sorely disappointed at many turns, most being annoying brats or self-absorbed tyrants. She could not imagine young Vanessa being like that in her older years. "You do not need to worry yourself about creating a present for me, Princess. I will not turn one down though, if you put it upon yourself to make something for me." She decided. She genuinely would accept and appreciate anything handmade by Vanessa; she could not see it otherwise.

"I would like to make you something." Vanessa smiled pleasantly. "It would be good practice. What colour do you prefer?"

While arguing about her colour choices (Isabella told her she would prefer her handkerchief to be brown and green; the earthy colours that would aid it to blend in the wilderness if it were to be lost, but Vanessa thought brown was a distasteful colour since it was the same as horse dung), the driver of the carriage announced their approach to Angeles Village.

Isabella gripped harder on her bow; she remembered one of her odd jobs while she travelled being a mercenary. On one shipment trip between pirate camps in a carriage, they had been jumped by a larger group of rogues hiding out in the thick tree line. Isabella had managed to save her employer with not much more than a little scratch on his forehead from hitting the top of the carriage roof while stepping out, but the entire half-dozen of his guard was dead.

She automatically glanced at Alice and Rosalie, giggling happily with little Vanessa. She then imagined that group of three females in the situation of her previous employer. Bile rose to her throat and she swallowed it down. No, that would not happen. For some reason, she knew she would give her life to protect the lives of her new…

Employers? Acquaintances? Family of her superior? Friends?

Isabella pulled the deep cowl further down her face, hiding the slight smirk on her lips. Perhaps they could be friends, though she doubted it after she killed the King. That thought quickly wiped the smile off her face. Yes, she would have to kill the King. She cursed herself for letting herself get close to people who would be heavily affected by the murder of the King.

"Lady Rosalie, Lady Alice, we have arrived at Angeles Village." A deep voice announced as he pulled open the heavy wooden door of the carriage. More light poured in, making the slight adjustment of brightness affect Isabella's eyes for a fraction of a moment.

Isabella stepped out first without the aid of the driver, scanning the area for any potential threats while Alice, Rose and Vanessa exited the vehicle. It was past noon, making the village thrive with the hustle and bustle of villagers and shoppers as they went about their business. A wide cobblestone street led into the heart of the town and branched off into the neighbourhoods, pots of flowers and shop signs hanging from the small buildings.

A little nudge to her shoulder jolted Isabella back to the present to see Burnside, eyes sparkling and coat fresh. Isabella still had yet to get used to not having to tend to Burnside as much anymore. She petted his coat affectionately, though he kept poking her side and sniffing her satchel.

"No, you're not getting any sugar cubes." Isabella snapped with a loving smile. Burnside snorted in discontentment, almost as if to say, _"You deprive me of delicious treats."_ Isabella shook her head. "You're getting fat, Burnside. Look at this." She poked her horse's side.

"_I am not getting fat."_ His eyes said, swinging his head in protest. Isabella patted his side, sliding him an apple piece instead. Burnside huffed but accepted the healthy treat anyways, not one to turn down a luxury other than bland oats.

The driver helped Alice onto her black mare, her small frame looking even tinier on the large yet graceful beast. Rosalie needed no aid as she swung up onto the saddle of her pure white stallion. Isabella went to help Vanessa onto the back of Rosalie's saddle, sharing the horse as Vanessa was not yet able to properly lead a horse. She then saddled her own steed, her bow ready in her lap and holding the reins with one hand.

"Ah, Angeles Village is always a sight to see." Alice sighed as her horse cantered forward, the rest of the group following. The commoners began to take notice of the Royal group; their attire, steeds and half-a-dozen guards giving away their identity. The bowed and curtsied respectfully as they passed by before continuing about their business.

They progressed steadily through the streets, children rushing forward to wave and grin happily at the four while the merchants hurried to make their stands more presentable. It was not unlikely that whatever any of the Royals purchased would become a craze for the commoners; Isabella remembered when Rosalie had bought a bushel of lilies and a few hours later, the florist was swamped with customers and orders. It was fantastic for the economy when they bought something.

"What do you think of this fabric, Alice?" Vanessa said as she scooted down from the horse and scampered to a stall, fingering a piece of pink cloth. "I absolutely adore the shade and it is quite soft. But the lilac is pretty as well." Her eyebrow furrowed in concentration.

The merchant – a bald man with a large stomach and a tunic much too short for his build – sidled up to the Princess and wiped his sweaty brow with a tattered handkerchief. "Ah, you have an eye for fine silk, an excellent choice, young Princess. It was imported from Italy, Lucca." He smiled shakily and Isabella shook her head in shame.

Vanessa ran a finger over a green piece. "How is silk made, sir?"

The man gulped; probably in reaction to her calling him 'sir'. "Well, Princess, silkworms make the silk."

She frowned, moving over to another piece. "Please elaborate."

He took out his handkerchief again, patting his clammy face. "Uh, well, the silkworms make their cocoons, which are then collected by the farmers. Then they are dissolved in boiling water so the individual long fibres can be sorted and placed in a spinning reel." He recited shakily.

Vanessa was in a state of shock, her mouth hanging open. "Aren't the little worms still in the cocoons when they are boiled?"

"Yes… they are killed in result." He said dumbly.

Vanessa stood with her mouth agape as she absorbed the information. It was laughable, really. Isabella had to stifle her giggles as Vanessa went on a near rampage about how that was barbaric and savage, killing the creature just for the material it makes. The merchant was flustered as she shouted at him while Alice and Rosalie was simultaneously laughing and trying to calm a raging Princess. After berating the man, she ended up purchasing wool string, opting to knit instead of sew.

They continued on their lazy trot, drifting away from the stall where the commoners had flocked to see what the Princess had purchased. While Alice, Rosalie and Vanessa continued on, Isabella paused by a little stall manned by a young girl, her face dirty and her blond hair matted to the side of her face. Her clothes were filled with holes and several sizes too big for her.

God, she looked uncomfortable.

Isabella glanced at the group who hadn't noticed her pause and continued on. Isabella had no doubt that she would be able to catch up and figured that they would be fine with six guards. She pressed her heels into Burnside's side, trotting over to the girl's stand.

The little girl looked up, a hopeful glint in her eyes as she offered a small smile. Isabella returned it, perusing what was on the table. It was simply dark breads spread on the table cloth, several misshapen and different sizes. She looked into the jar of what was most likely her earnings and her heart plummeted when she saw only a few pence in the holder. It was already late non and she had not enough money to eat one of the breads on her table.

"Good afternoon, young lady." Isabella greeted from atop her horse.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Care for some bread?" The girl said with optimism in her voice. "Five pence is all for a full loaf of bread. Three pence for a small jar of jelly."

Isabella took out her purse and withdrew a pound, flicking it with her thumb onto the girl's table. The girl stared at it with awe, almost as if it were to disappear if she blinked. She looked up to Isabella, tears brimmed in her eyes.

"I cannot take that. I don't have enough money to give back to you." She murmured, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

Isabella smiled. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to _not_ give me back some change."

The girl glanced up at her, letting her hair fall in front of her face. "Really?"

"Yes, child, I'd just like three loaves and a small jar of jelly in exchange." Isabella said. The girl hurried to comply, taking a small sized jar full of jelly from under the table and carefully forked three loaves into a bag, handing it over to Isabella. "Thank you. I hope you don't mind if I ask where your parents are."

The girl lowered her head, twiddling her thumbs. "My mother ran away with a lord and my father is drowns in alcohol we can't afford. My brother and grandfather works the field, my grandmamma makes the bread and jelly while I sit in the market and work."

A pang of empathy rang through Isabella's chest. "I know what it is like to not have parents. My mother died in the plague and my father was murdered."

The girl was stunned. "Murdered? How did you cope? Did you have any family?"

Isabella smiled at the girl's curiosity. "Yes, he was murdered by a bad man. I cope by knowing that he will be avenged one day, whether it is by my hand or by another's." Isabella thought for a moment. Perhaps what she said was a tad bit too gruesome for a young child. She shrugged though. The girl lived in a harsh world and couldn't be sheltered for much longer. "And no, I have no blood family close enough to me. But there was another family that was once very close to my father and they took me in. With hard work, I learned to take care of myself and how to survive in a harsh world like this." She shook her head. "Forget my words, young one. What is your name?"

The girl pinked slightly, though she didn't know why. "Cassia Smith, Miss."

"Well, Miss Cassia, the best of luck to you. Don't ever give up, or else you'll never have better life. Sometimes, all you need to do is believe." Isabella encouraged. She turned Burnside's head and pressed her heels into his side, cantering off in the other direction.

She mused silently as she withdrew a piece of rough bread and jelly from the bag and munched as she continued down the cobblestone path. There were many Smiths in the country of Forks, as it was a very common name. But they would almost certainly be in Angeles Village, as commoners tended not to stray from their hometown. Isabella could easily find their home and leave a small bag of gold coins to be put to good use, along with some better fabric to make some clothes.

Isabella spotted the group to the side, perusing a stall of produce. She approached quietly, feeding Burnside some of the dry bread rather than eating it herself. She was quite full from the breakfast and the bread was made with a rough rye, making it hard for her to chew. Burnside had no qualms with it though, chomping happily.

Alice grinned as Isabella advanced. She was beginning to be annoyed with the Princess's knowing smiles and waggling eyebrows. "What?" Isabella snapped. She knew that was not how to talk to a Royal, but she could not stand Alice's looks any longer.

"I saw you purchase mediocre bread for much more than you should've." Alice noted with a face-splitting smile.

Isabella snatched up two apples from the stall and flicked a few pence at the merchant, not one more or less coin. She snapped off the stem and leaf of one apple before popping it into Burnside's mouth. "Yes?" She prompted as she bit into her own apple.

"Why, Miss Jones, you don't seem as tough and cold-blooded as you try to be!" She exclaimed with a giggle.

Isabella glanced at Rosalie and Vanessa, who were battling the merchant over the extreme prices of carrots. She knew the ladies had enough coin on them to buy the whole merchant out, but haggling was part of the market etiquette. They seemed not to be paying attention to Alice and Isabella. She shrugged. "So?"

Alice nudged Isabella from her horse. "Don't pretend to be indifferent as usual. Inside, you are really a sweet woman with a weak spot for children."

Isabella huffed. "I am also a woman capable of maiming, slaughtering and torturing in more ways than anyone can imagine, inside and out. I may pity children but do not think I am like the ladies of Castle Forks who care only about the gossip and materialistic things in life." She spat at Alice. She had no malice towards her personally, but she did not appreciate her attempts at probing her.

The pixie-like woman was unfazed. "Marie, I have seen enough of you to know that you hide behind vicious and savage words as your shield. I do not take offense at your petty jabs, though you may want to watch your tongue with Rosalie."

"And I have watched you enough to witness your little 'seeing' moments. Why do your eyes glaze over, Lady Alice? Why do you 'happen' to know when things happen when they do? Why do you try and hide your little 'fits'?" Isabella shot back. She did not think it would be as piercing as it was but Alice paled considerably, gulping.

"I – I – I do not understand what you are implying." She choked out.

Before Isabella could continue, Rosalie and Vanessa came near with triumphant looks on their faces, holding a bundle of carrots and celery in their arms. "We have succeeded in diminishing the produce prices!" Vanessa announced with a grin.

Rosalie's victorious look was washed away when she took in Alice's pale face, damp with perspiration and worry lines etched on her forehead. "Are you alright, Alice? You look slightly feverish." She asked, handing off her winnings to a guard. Vanessa did the same.

Alice coughed. "Um, yes, yes I'm fine. Perhaps we may head back to the castle? I could use a bit of rest."

Rosalie nodded. "Of course, Alice. Sir Liam, please prepare the carriage. We will be heading back to Castle Forks."

They spurred their horses on to a quick trot, weaving through the streets and bodies of people. Isabella noticed that Alice stayed on the far side of the group, away from Isabella and stealing quick glances. Isabella stared straight ahead, ignoring both the stares of the commoners as they passed by and those of Alice.

The guards helped the ladies step down from their steeds and into the carriage, harnessing their horses to the vehicle. Vanessa peeked out the door. "Marie, are you not coming in?"

Isabella shook her head. "No, Princess. I would rather ride Burnside. I sort of miss riding the overweight beast." She smiled dryly.

Burnside snorted, shaking his mane. _"I am not overweight. You want overweight? Feed me more sugar cubes."_

Isabella refrained from responding to what she believed Burnside to say with his body language. Most people did not converse with their horses, but Isabella thought it built a better relationship. Heaven knows that he was less likely to abandon her than any other steed. She knew that others would stare at her with confusion and Isabella was tired of the excess attention.

Vanessa frowned for a moment before Rosalie called her back in, shutting the door. Isabella sighed; relieved to not have to battle the Princess though she could not say the same for the jealousy that rose in her chest. Then she shook her head in resentment; of course she was closer to Rosalie, who practically raised her.

The head of the guard yelled out a command and the group lurched forward, pulling out of the town gates. Isabella waited several moments, letting the carriage and guard pull away numerous metres before clicking her heels into Burnside's flank, trotting lazily behind them.

It was barely a few minutes of travelling before the group abruptly stopped in their tracks. Isabella groaned. "You must be bloody fucking with me." She cursed under her breath, picking up her bow from her lap and placing an arrow on the string. "Can I not have a bloody day where there are not bandits trying to pilfer from my group?" She muttered under her breath before snickering, realizing that it was something she had done on a daily basis before being employed at Castle Forks.

Isabella moved up to another guard, pausing beside him. "Does this happen often?" She asked in a hushed tone as the leader of the group conversed with the leader of the bandits.

The man frowned. "No, it does not. I do not understand why there is a flux in ambushes." He gripped his hilt.

Isabella sighed. Perhaps it was her fault. Maybe her presence drew bandits like moths to candle light as she was one herself. Not many brigands knew of her face as she often had her cowl pulled over her face as she did at the moment, hiding her eyes.

She did not flinch when the leader of the bandits unsheathed his sword and plunged it into the guard's gut, a strangled groan escaping his lips. The rest of the guards withdrew their swords, though she thought it would not have much of a difference. There were at least a dozen and a half thieves while they were downsized to five guards. Isabella smirked dryly. What was she saying? She amounted to at least ten very experienced men and could most likely subdue the whole band with just one man at her side.

The guards sprang into action, cutting down their enemies. Isabella trotted up to the carriage and pulled the door open. "Ladies, please stay in the carriage. This shall not take too much time at all." She said coolly before she shut the door, hearing the lock engage.

The hairs on Isabella's neck stood stiffly, making a jolt run down her spine. She took the arrow off the string of the bow and whirled, using the sharp arrowhead to slice through a man's gullet. He collapsed on the ground and drowned in his own pool of blood as Isabella stepped over his body. Thank the Lord for her instincts.

She readied her arrow on the string, letting it loose on a man who was battling a guard. The knight was losing the battle, so she likely saved his life. He turned and nodded his thanks before engaging battle with another bandit. Isabella lazily picked off the bandits who were fighting the other knights. A guard kicked a bandit off his body and Isabella pierced him through the right eye, the arrow quivering as it thudded in his socket.

Two knights were struck down, decimating their numbers to three knights and herself with ten brigands still alive and fighting. Isabella stepped off her steed easily, patting his mane. "Please protect the carriage while I take care of this." He snorted and reared, making Isabella scoff. "Don't show off. It's unflattering."

The hairs on her neck stood again, making her drop her bow and unsheathe her heavy dagger. She twirled and sliced in an upwards arc, watching the blood spill out of the poor and rough bandit's throat who attempted to ambush her. A man approached her and swung with a wild punch, a knife clutched in his fist. Isabella flicked his arm off of trajectory and plunged her knife into his stomach. She had no time to withdraw her blade from his abdomen before she twirled and pitched her throwing dagger. It spiralled in the arm before planting itself firmly in the man's skull who was attempting to break the door of the carriage open.

She briefly saw Burnside rearing up and kicking a man painfully in the head with his hooves when she extracted her heavy blade from her dead victim's stomach. Another knight went down, leaving another six thieves alive. She parried a shot, cutting through a bloke's wrist causing him to drop his blade with a gasp. She plunged her dagger into his gut and twisted it painfully, slashing his throat for good measure.

Suddenly, her airway was blocked by a beefy arm wrapped around her neck and lifted her off the ground, her dagger skittering off. Isabella wrestled in the man's grasp, kicking and flailing. After wriggling her head a bit, she caught the man's finger in her mouth and she bit down hard enough to draw blood. He roared and released her involuntarily, dropping her to the ground. Isabella turned on her heel, and drove her fist into his jaw, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

That was enough time for Isabella to fish out the small blade in her sleeve. She charged him and swung in an arc. He narrowly caught her wrist. They battled for dominance for a brief moment before Isabella drove her knee into his groin, making him crumble to the ground. Isabella vaulted over his back and turned mid-air, driving her blade into his back as she landed.

There was a final grunt as the last knight fell to the ground, leaving the last two men alive. They was heaving in breaths and covered in varying injuries, though they were still much larger than Isabella had carried long, heavy swords.

"Well, Lenny, I believe we have one last dame here." The blond man said, spitting a mixture of saliva and blood to the side.

"Why, yes, Freddy, this is quite the beautiful lass. I wonder how she got caught up with the knights." The black haired man, supposedly Lenny, responded. He licked his lips. "Should we give her a taste before we finish this?"

Freddy scanned her body quite blatantly as she spun the small knife in her hand. Isabella spied her heavier knife behind them, lying on the gravel road. "We should not let an opportunity like this go to waste, no? What a waste it would be. It would be a much _satisfying_ victory than just seizing the noblewomen undoubtedly in the cart."

Lenny nodded. "Lots of coin from a ransom and relief… we are some lucky ones, brother." He leered at her. "We shouldn't waste it."

Isabella smirked. "Yes, you shouldn't waste it." She responded for Freddy as she charged Lenny. He brought up his sword for he thought she was going to attack, but she slid under his parted legs and scrambled to her feet, swiping up her heavy dagger.

The two men flanked her. Isabella held both knives in her hands, her eyes scanning the two as they circled her. "Why, Lenny doesn't this young lady look like someone to you?" Freddy said with a sneer.

Lenny took a step forward but Isabella didn't budge. "Maybe if we moved that little hood of yours…" His arm moved towards Isabella and as quick as a viper, she sliced through his cheap chainmail and into the tendon in his forearm.

He jumped backwards just as Freddy lunged. Isabella whirled and parried his shot, jabbing and slicing with both of her blades. She slashed his face, making him groan and step back as Lenny jumped forward. They continued to exchange blows, Isabella pressing forward as Lenny was forced into defence. Eventually Isabella cut his left thigh, causing him to crumble to the ground on his knees.

The hairs stood on her neck so abruptly it was nearly painful. She somersaulted over Lenny just as Freddy charged with his sword.

He plunged it right into his own brother.

Freddy gasped. "Bloody hell… Lenny! I'm so bloody sorry!"

Lenny gurgled, blood slipping down his lips. He slumped forward and planted face-down into the gravel. Freddy choked and gathered his brother into his arms, rocking back and forth. Isabella approached him casually, turning the blade in her hand. She sighed. "Wasted, indeed." She plunged the dagger straight through his skull, giving him a quick death.

Isabella stepped back, reviewing the carnage. Not a single person was left alive save for herself, the ladies in the carriage and Burnside. He trotted up to her, nudging her shoulder for a reward. She slipped her hand into her pocket and handed him a sugar cube. He deserved it for a job well done.

"Well, this isn't pretty." Isabella noted, stroking his mane. "Burnside, please get my bow. I dropped it somewhere over there." She waved her hand. Burnside walked off in the other direction, sniffing for her bow as she went to the carriage and tried the door handle. She was relieved to see it was intact. "Ladies, it is safe."

There was no answer, so Isabella took the hilt of her blade and struck it against the door handle. There were a couple of muffles squeals until she broke open the door, letting the light filter in. Alice, Rosalie and Vanessa sat huddled in the far corner, cradling the younger girl in their arms.

"Are you ladies alright?" Isabella asked.

"God Almighty, Marie, what happened?" Alice gasped. "You're injured!"

Isabella pressed a finger to her cheek, coming back with blood. She shrugged. "That happens in battle. I am alright." She held out a hand and Alice took it, stepping out of the carriage. She saw the massacre and tears immediately sprang to her eyes. "Careful. They are all dead but I do not want you slipping."

Alice took a few steps in a daze, looking over the face of each man. Rosalie attempted to come out of the carriage next, but Isabella stopped her. "Rosalie, please shield Vanessa's eyes from the slaughter. Her eyes are much too young for this."

Rosalie nodded, taking the Princess in her arms and nestling her head into her shoulder. She stepped out and gulped visibly. "You are alright, Isabella?"

She nodded. "Yes. Let me get your horses for you."

Burnside approached, her bow cradled gently in his teeth. Isabella thanked him and took it, slinging it over her shoulder. She unharnessed the relatively unharmed horses and helped Rosalie and Vanessa up on the saddle. Alice was still in a stupor as she stepped up on her steed, clutching the reins in her hands with white knuckles. Isabella placed a hand on hers, making Alice's eyes flicker to hers. "Relax." Isabella said.

She left them for the moment, heading over to the leader who recognized with a start. Aster Xavier. Good Gods, she had made many deals with the man who worked the most popular criminal port. He was never known to lead a raid, especially not one that had a target of nobles. He preferred to man the docks, making the deals and working the backstage problems. Why was he here? Why step out of his comfort zone? What motive did he have?

Isabella searched his pockets, finding only a few coins, lint and a broken tooth (which Isabella gagged over). It was not until she unbuttoned his outer vest and poked her fingers into the breast pocket of his shirt that she found answers. His breast pocket also had a crest on it which was not unusual. Some bandit groups had their own symbols to separate them from other bands. She cut his crest off his shirt with her dagger, pocketing the fabric.

"What did you find?" Rosalie asked as Isabella approached on Burnside.

"Just the crest of the criminal group he most likely belonged to." Isabella responded. "Do you ladies know which way the castle is?"

Rosalie shrugged just as Alice paled. Vanessa clutched onto the blonde woman's back. Isabella understood; it was quite the traumatising day with loads of gore and Isabella would want to escape it if she were a child. "No… we do not usually pay attention to the road. The driver or the guards know the path." Alice murmured.

Isabella sighed and rubbed her face tiredly. God, Royal women were as ignorant as a lamb on slaughtering day. "It's alright, I know the way. Follow me."

**BRIGAND**

Isabella lay in her bed, the window thrust open to let in the cool night breeze. A sound of an owl hooting and crickets chirping faintly filled the room, setting off an almost melancholy state in her chambers. She was off duty for the rest of the day after her heroics earlier and she was grateful for the time; she had a couple of scratches around her body and had to remake some arrows she lost that afternoon.

She remembered coming home that afternoon. When they passed the gates without any of the guard and on the horses, everyone immediately knew something was wrong. The King was about to pull Isabella into his office for questioning, but Alice noticed that her injuries were beyond a simple cut on her cheek. Alice sent her off to her room for the rest of the day, promising to take care of the finer details. Isabella could care less.

After tending to her injuries, Angela had brought up some dinner for her. Isabella hated being waited on, but Angela wouldn't hear any of her complaints. Isabella ate alone in her room as she fletched her arrows and began to write an overdue letter to Samuel. She visited Burnside another time before returning to her room, pacing the small length of her chambers.

The castle had gone silent. Isabella glanced at her water clock and saw that it was midnight and that she was still not asleep. Perhaps her mind would not rest until she addressed everything bothering her that day.

Her mind flickered to Lady Victoria.

When Isabella went down to return her plate and utensils to the kitchen earlier that evening, she caught sight of the lady in the gardens with Edward. He was a gentleman with her, keeping his temper in check and reacting appropriately in certain times; laughing when she said something humorous, grinning in return to her own, saddening at news she could not identify. Isabella couldn't help but follow them from a distance; she could blend into the background should the occasion call for it.

Isabella couldn't tell what emotions were boiling up in her when she saw the two betrothed together. They were simple and easy. Edward and she were complicated and heated. She never had met someone who could evoke such emotions in her! She couldn't identify them, though. It was nothing she had ever felt before.

The pair dined in the middle of the maze of low shrubs, the clinking of plates, utensils and teacups reaching Isabella who was crouching by the small creek hidden in the corner of the property. A tree with long foliage hanging down sufficiently hid her from the two though it wouldn't have made much of a difference; they were so absorbed in each other she doubted they would have noticed if the castle was set on fire.

Lady Victoria placed a hand on his and he took it without hesitation. Isabella saw that and her heart plunged from her chest to her stomach. She had to hold back her bile. Perhaps her mind and heart had become darkened beyond repair and could not hold it for long, because she was losing hope quickly.

Then she thought, losing hope for what? What was she losing hope for?

Isabella huffed in her bed, deciding that sleep would not find her anytime soon. She stood and changed out of her nightgown into her breeches and tunic. She wrapped her cloak around herself and did not bother to plait her hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders.

She reached under her bed, sliding out a black leather case. She flicked open the latches and took out a lute.

Her father's lute.

Isabella only took her small knife with her as she pulled herself up on the window frame. Her chambers were only three stories tall and there was a leafy tree below her, so she figured she would be relatively safe. Outside her window, there was a thick ledge made to place pots of flowers for whatever. Isabella perched on the edge, her legs hanging precariously over the edge.

She sighed and strummed her lute, playing a few notes before tuning it.

Why was she here? Was killing the King truly what she wanted?

Then she remembered her father. He was always there for her, every step of her life. She did not remember her mother, so her father took her place in every memory. She recalled when her father would tell her stories when she could not sleep on nights like this and make her a cup of warm milk. Isabella and he would sit on the roof of their small farm house and sing silly songs while he played the lute.

When he died, a part of her died with him.

Yes, the murder of the King was what she wanted.

A memory of her father sprang to mind. On her mother's birthday or their wedding anniversary, her father would usually drink himself into oblivion, leaving Isabella to pick up the pieces the day after. But one night, when Isabella was ten, he didn't drink. He sang.

Isabella exhaled, watching her breath leave her mouth in the chilly air. She strummed once, twice, thrice.

"_I hear you shout in the distance_

'_O my lovely, why won't you wait for me?'_

_I continue on in the path of life_

_The road I dance is not one for you to see_

_I hid behind the cherry blossom tree_

_Because I not want you to witness me_

_As I stumble and trip, fall through the view_

_Without ever telling you 'I love you'."_

Isabella whirled when she heard a clap, nearly falling out of her place on the windowsill. It would have been unfortunate, really, to have survived countless battles and raids to die to a simple fall out of the window. Edward stood in her room, clad in just loose trousers and shirt, his feet even bare. His bronze hair was in disarray as usually, as if he attempted to pull out his locks just the roots. Even though the room was dark, his piercing green eyes were illuminated by the moonlight pouring in.

"What are you doing in my chambers?" Isabella demanded though there was no bite to her words.

Edward ignored her question and approached the window. "May I join you?"

Isabella looked back to the horizon, the moon high in the sky. She could see over the castle walls and to the mountains, where a lone wolf howled loudly in the lonely air. It was sad, despairing and lonesome. She grimaced; it reminded her of herself. She would always be alone.

She coughed. "Yes, yes. Be careful; can't have you breaking your neck for your bizarre need to sit with me."

He grinned crookedly. "If you would just pick a better place to sit, we would not have this problem." He said as he climbed to a spot next to her, situating himself on the cold stone. He inhaled sharped and closed his eyes, his hands clutching the stone until his knuckles turned white. "Will this hold us?"

Isabella laughed and it reminded Edward of music. He was temporarily stunned. "Yes, Sir Edward, do not worry your little trousers off. It will hold. If not, the tree below us shall cushion our fall. I plan on not falling though."

He glanced at her somewhat shyly. In a very masculine way of looking at someone shyly, that is. Isabella met his gaze, blushing under his emerald orbs. "What?"

Edward cleared his throat. "No, nothing." He stared at the mountains, avoiding her eyes. "You sang beautifully. What song was that?"

Isabella flushed at his compliment. "Thank you, Sir Edward. I'm not sure what the title is… I'm fairly sure that my father wrote it. He played the lute and taught me, along with the song." Isabella laughed nervously. "I do not know why he played. He hated the lute. I'm positive that he did it only for my mother."

"I would like to say that I understand your sadness, but I have not lost any family members and I continue to hope that I don't have to understand it." Edward said before glancing at Isabella was searching eyes. "How did you cope?"

Isabella stared out to the horizon, watching a group of flying animals, most likely bats or owls, fly out into the illuminated sky. "I focused on other things. As a commoner child, we worked as soon as we were able to walk. With working the field and learning to read and write in two different languages… there was never any time to grieve."

Edward was still bursting with questions, but he felt it wasn't the right time to ask.

"Why are you here?" Isabella asked.

He pulled at his hair; a reflex to an uncomfortable position or confusion. "I don't know. I couldn't sleep."

_That makes two of us,_ Isabella thought.

"But I guess I would like to thank you." He said with finality. "Without you there, my family would most likely be dead."

Isabella shook her head. "Do not thank me. I am simply doing my job."

"Either way, I still thank you." Edward shot her a crooked smile, all semblances of the intimacy they shared gone. He cautiously turned in his seat, poised to step back into Isabella's chambers. "Get some rest. We can't have you swooning like some virtuous maiden." He jested, hopping onto solid ground. "Goodnight."

Isabella offered a small smile. "Goodnight, Sir Edward."

* * *

_**A/N: Here's a (sort of) longer chapter to make up for the delay. Again, I'm so sorry! I could make excuses but... eh. I lost my internet connection for a minute so I don't really remember what I was going to say. It should come around soon.**_

_**To Sunflower2009: Thanks! I'm not going to be *too* greedy about what Fanficion users give me. I'm grateful either way. I dunno, to be honest. I'm a fan of those two-for-one deals at the mall but I think Tanya and Victoria deserve their own personalized deaths. Like key-chains. Bella will have to decide, I guess. **_

_**To kathrin: Again, thank you! I'm glad you think it's**_

_**so**_

_**much**_

_**fun to**_

_**read.**_

_**:)**_

_**To everyone else: Thanks for reading! Please review, 'cause you know, please? **_

_**Bacon is delicious,**_

_**-A**_


	8. Scene VIII

_**Scene VIII**_

* * *

"Wake up, wake up!"

Isabella had to push away the urge to whip out her small knife hidden under her pillow and to attack whatever demon that dared to wake her from her sleep, but she held back as it was Vanessa who pounced on her. Cutting the young Princess into a platter of sliced meat would not fare well, she supposed.

"What's going on? Are we under attack?" Isabella yawned as she rubbed her eyes. She glanced at the water clock and saw that it was just after seven in the morning. Usually Isabella didn't sleep in that late but Alice had said that she would let her sleep in. The King hadn't objected, so Isabella took the opportunity.

"No, but the one good thing of having Lady Victoria visiting is happening tonight! We're having a ball!" Vanessa squealed. Alice had itched open Isabella's chamber doors by that point, grinning from ear to ear. She ran in like a child and jumped on the bed, jostling them all. "Oh, it has been planned for weeks now! Mrs. Cope has the kitchen in a flurry and we all have our dresses ready! The Grand Hall is all decorated to look pretty and –"

"And what has that have to do with me?" Isabella prompted tiredly as she slithered out of her bed, retrieving her tunic and leggings from her drawers. She cast them a look from them to the door, silently commanding them to leave her chambers.

They ignored her piercing look. "You're coming, silly!" Vanessa said, bouncing along with Alice on her bed.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm coming, Vanessa. Who knows where those noblemen and women have been?"

Alice grinned. "No, Marie, you'll be coming as a guest as well!"

Isabella stopped in her movements and slowly turned to see Alice and Vanessa's happy faces. She inwardly groaned. No one could be so happy this early in the morning. "I am coming as a guest." She said more as a statement than a question. The two girls nodded cheerfully. "And coming as a guest includes…?"

"You'll be wearing a dress and mask, of course! It's a masquerade ball!" Vanessa gushed. "Oh, it's so beautiful, Marie. Mrs. Cope let me watch her as she made your dress and I can't believe how well she made it! Your mask as well… it's like a –"

Alice caught Vanessa's mouth from spilling any more secrets. "Vanessa, you mustn't tell her yet!"

Vanessa wriggled out of Alice's grasp and pouted. "You are no fun, Cousin Alice."

Isabella, meanwhile, was about to vomit. Handling shady business with bandit leaders, she can do. Battling a horde of angry wolves, that was a piece of cake. Shooting an arrow from two hundred metres, she could do it in her sleep. But a masquerade ball? No, even when she was invited to such events, she turned them down. She was certain that she would end up shooting a snooty noblewoman or an overzealous man drunk on expensive wines.

"Who's guarding you today, Vanessa?" Isabella asked nauseously, attempting to steer away from talk of dresses and masks. "Surely you need me to guard you as there will be many noblemen and women that you will not recognize."

"Oh!" Vanessa jumped down from her bed and darted out the door, dragging a resisting man into the room. "Cousin Edward is with me at the moment!"

A flash of bronze hair and a muscled body came into Isabella's view. She immediately jumped back and pulled the curtain over her body just as Alice squealed at Edward to leave the room. Isabella was only clad in her nightgown and smock, which was fairly sheer and clung to her body at the intimate places. She reddened from her neck to her ears, her body flaming in embarrassment.

"Vanessa!" Alice shrieked, hopping to her feet and impeding Edward's view.

"Gah!" He spluttered and turned hastily, only to bash his head into the doorframe. Had Isabella not be practically naked, she would've laughed at the Prince's blunder. "God, I am so sorry! I'll be leaving!"

"Sure as hell you are!" Alice screamed, pushing against his chest. "Get out, damn it!"

After some lumbering about and a bit of screaming that has surly woken the entire castle, they got Edward out of the room. Isabella sighed in relief, staying behind the curtain while she changing swiftly into her regular garb. She stepped out and placed her nightgown on the back of her chair. She pulled her cloak off a hook and wrapped it around herself, revelling in the comfort the familiar piece of clothing brought her.

"Good God, I need a drink after that." Alice sighed, slumping against the door. "I can't though. It's much too early and I don't plan on becoming a drunken buffoon at seven in the morning. How about some breakfast?"

Vanessa hummed, already forgetting about the little event not more than seconds ago. "Yes, breakfast sounds great."

Isabella took her bow and quiver, strapping her belt around her waist and sliding her knives in the holders. "I shall escort you to the dining room, then." She opened the door, ushering them out of her room. "You did not answer my question, Vanessa."

Alice made a sound and waved her hand. "Oh, none of that! You'll be joining us for breakfast. And the whole guard and all the knights in the castle will be on duty. No one shall be doing anything out of order."

Isabella shifted uncomfortably in her spot. "Alice, I shouldn't be eating with the Royals. I belong in the kitchen, or in the serf's dining area. Please don't put me in a difficult position." She begged. She was not above it.

However, Alice would not be swayed. "Oh shush! We'll have tons of fun!" She turned to Vanessa. "Right, Nessie?" She agreed wholeheartedly, flashing Isabella those doe-like eyes that glistened in the morning light.

"But -"

"Please." Alice interrupted. "I'll most likely murder Lady Victoria if I don't have my girls with me. She's a snooty daughter of word-I-cannot-say-because-of-young-ears who feeds upon the fear of the serfs and treats them like they are scum beneath her shoe. I cannot tolerate her alone and I need all my ladies. Do not deny it Marie – you are a part of my life now and are one of us." Alice frowned playfully.

Isabella struggled not to flush at her words, but to no avail. She was one of her 'girls'. She _belonged._ However, a small part at the back of her head knew that it wouldn't last. "Alright then, but I am not held accountable for how I react to her in any way." She jested. Vanessa grinned and Alice squealed.

"Oh, this will be so much better! Let's go!" She squeaked and pulled Isabella to her feet. Alice – with extraordinary strength – pulled Vanessa and Isabella out of her chambers. She shuddered at not cleaning her compartments before leaving; it was a mess.

Edward stood outside her door, chatting quietly with Sir Ben who was stationed at Vanessa's door. His eyes snapped to Isabella's when she shut the door and locked it behind her. She turned and stepped back, the intensity of his gaze stunning her for a moment.

"Edward, Marie shall be joining us for breakfast! Isn't that fantastic?" Alice announced, clutching Isabella's arm.

He stared into her brown eyes for another second before shifting attention to Alice. "Did you even ask her, you little pixie-demon? Perhaps she would rather eat in peace with her friends, you know." He glanced at Isabella. "Do not be afraid to decline."

Alice hit him good-naturedly in the arm. He yelped and glared at her lightly, rubbing his bicep. "She already agreed, you giant oaf. And we are friends, as the matter of fact. Oh, I can't get over how fun this shall be! You'll get to meet my fiancé, Jasper Whitlock. He's also Edward's assistant commander of Castle Fork's knights. You'll meet Rosalie's fiancé and our brother, Emmett. He's a bigger lout than Edward, he is, and I warn you in advance."

"Hey! I'm no oaf." Edward protested. He scooped Vanessa into his arms and swung her around as they began down the hall. Isabella couldn't help but smile slightly at their easy banter. Life with her group of brigands was never this light-hearted because of the authorities constantly on their trail. It was quite refreshing to Isabella.

"Yes you are, Edward, stop trying to deny it. Anyways, where was I?" Isabella shared a wondering look with Edward, who shrugged and tossed a squealing Vanessa in the air. "Oh, yes, all of us are engaged already. Well, Edward hasn't officially proposed to the Duchess of Doom, which is a reprieve to me."

"Alice…" Edward said as a warning.

Isabella was silently pushing Alice to continue, though she was not completely sure she wanted to hear the details of Edward's engagement. To her somewhat relief, Alice did continue. "Edward, you know she is a terrible woman. You only protect her because you are betrothed to the lady, not because you love her or anything." She turned to Isabella. "What about you, Isabella? Do you have anyone you fancy?"

Isabella flushed, biting her lip as she looked to the ground. "No, not at the moment."

Alice raised her eyebrow with a smirk. "Is that so? 'Not at the moment'… does that mean you had someone before?"

Isabella did not know how to approach the subject. She really did not want to relive the memories that haunted her for so many years and eventually pushed her out of La Push. A flash of copper skin, dark hair and pearly white teeth invaded her mind. "… Yes, I did have someone before." She pleaded silently with her eyes. "Please, Alice, I do not wish to re-experience the lower moments of my life."

She softened and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "I apologize, Marie. I was just trying to get to know you better." Edward had stopped tossing Vanessa in the air at that moment, choosing to stare at Isabella with an emotion she could not pinpoint.

"It's alright, Alice. No harm taken." Isabella smiled slightly, though it came out more like a grimace. "We have arrived." She announced. The two knights stationed in front of the dining hall's doors heaved them open.

Once the oak doors squeaked open, a lavish and ornate room came into view. Marble floors with different yet coordinated colours reflected off the light coming in from the windows and the stone walls were decorated with fine tapestry. Serfs hustled about, bringing in dishes and clambering was heard from the adjoining kitchen. An extravagant chandelier hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room where seven people already sat at a grand table, food set on their mats.

"Edward, Alice, Vanessa! Good morn to you!" A large and burly man called out, a piece of meat hanging from the corner of his mouth. Rosalie, who sat next to him, smacked his arm playfully.

"Emmett, do not speak with your mouth open!" She scolded, but even Isabella could see the love the hard woman had for the man.

The four approached the table, taking their spots. Edward sat next to the fiery haired lady, assumingly Lady Victoria. She patted her mouth daintily with her handkerchief, glancing briefly at Edward before her lips curled upwards. Alice flounced over to a blond haired man and pecked him on the cheek. Vanessa bounced into her spot beside Queen Esme, chattering to her excitedly while the serfs began to set her food in front of her. Isabella briefly noted Lady Tanya's absence.

Isabella took her spot behind Vanessa's seat that she usually never inhabited until now. The movement made Lady Victoria's eyes snap to her form, studying her with an almost disturbing gaze. Isabella didn't squirm though; that would mean showing discomfort and weakness.

"Edward, honey, who is this?" Victoria asked. Her voice was high pitched and almost child-like.

Her question brought the attention of a man at the other end of the table to Isabella. Edward simply picked at his food. "That is Marie Jones, Lady Victoria. She is Vanessa's new personal guard."

Alice was snapped out of her fiancé-caused reverie, the dreamy haze subsiding from her eyes. "Oh, Marie, why don't I introduce you to everyone at this table?" She shifted in her seat, pecking the blond man's cheek again. Isabella inwardly recoiled in disgust. "This is my fiancé, Jasper Whitlock. Isn't he gorgeous?"

"Yes, ma'am," Isabella answered stoically. It was best to be detached when in the presence of a two men she despised. Nod her head and agree to whatever they ask was the best approach when in these types of situations. She learned that lesson long ago.

Alice ignored her lack of enthusiasm and continued. "That lug over there with the chaotic hair is Emmett, third in line for the throne. Though I imagine he would run this kingdom to the ground with his foolishness." Emmett protested with a 'hey!' earning another smack from Rosalie because of the mutton still lodged in his mouth. "That is Lady Victoria of Volterra, the neighbouring kingdom. And that is her father, Lord -"

"King Aro." Isabella snarled. Oh, she knew him alright.

The man smiled almost snake-like, his lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth resembling a shark's. His raven hair was slicked back; a heavy crown perched on his pale head. His eyes were nearly as black as his heart. He was draped in fine clothing and polished down to the last nail, just as she recalled from their last meeting. Yes, she remembered this man. How could she ever forget?

"Ah, Marie Jones. What a pleasure to see you again. How are you?" King Aro greeted as if they were long-time friends. The fiend would always be the same, though. They could never be more than enemies.

"Do not test me, King Aro. I will not hesitate to end your life if you step out of line. Your daughter's life, as well." Isabella growled with her hand perched over her daggers.

It was a flurry of movement. Aro's guards immediately stepped forward, unsheathing their swords and rounding the table to Isabella. King Carlisle shouted at Isabella because of her words, his own knights rushing forward to throw her in prison because of her words. Alice stood, causing her husband and Rosalie to stand and bellow for calamity. Emmett would've stood had he not knocked the entire table with his legs. Edward tried to come to Isabella's aid but Victoria placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

It was eventually King Aro's voice who ended the commotion. He raised his hand. "Stand down, everyone. I do not take offense at her words, so you should not as well. We have not parted on amiable conditions, partially because of me." He looked at Isabella with conniving eyes that only she could see. The friendliness and rationality was false. "Forgive me, Miss Jones. Shall we put our little bout to a rest?" He offered.

Oh, how Isabella wanted to just sever his evil little head from his shoulders and watch it roll onto his plate. Of course he would try to look like the good one of the two while Isabella fumed. They did not know of the piracy he takes place in, even to this day. He undoubtedly committed more crimes than Isabella had in her entire life. Isabella would know as she was once his accomplice, under her true name as Isabella Swan. She had stayed at Castle Volterra as Marie Jones; mercenary. She was surprised that he did not recognize her, even though she kept her face covered at both times. He was awfully perceptive for a vile rat.

"If you do not cross me again, King Aro, then I shall accept your offer." Isabella said with clenched teeth. She itched to throw her dagger in between him beady eyes. Oh, it would be very satisfying but she would most likely be hung for her actions before she could get the revenge that would be worth the death sentence.

He clapped his hands together, all the guards resuming their original stances. "Alright, then, shall we eat? Miss Jones, will you be eating with us?"

Isabella struggled not to bark out a laugh at his foolishness. Did he really think they would be on better terms than before? "No thank you, King Aro." She recommenced her apathetic façade.

Breakfast lagged on while there was casual chatter, though there was still a tension in the air because of the earlier stand-off. Alice, Rosalie and Edward cast her befuddled glances in between bites and answers. She simply stared into space, her hand twitching over her knives and her bow straining almost painfully on her back. The guards both loyal to King Aro and King Carlisle cast her wary glimpses, shifting in their spots.

Would it be appropriate to say that she enjoyed making them uncomfortable?

"Well, Carlisle, that was quite the enjoyable breakfast. It was delicious, my compliments to the chef." Aro said with an air of finality, dabbing at his pale lips with his handkerchief. "Would you and dear Esme take a walk with me in your beautiful gardens? It is too much of a beautiful day to pass up on a little gander around… it is unfortunate my beautiful Sulpicia had to stay at Castle Volterra. She would've loved to wander around in this weather, but our poor baby is bearing down on her heavily." He shook his head reminiscently. "Shall we?"

"Of course, friend," Carlisle said, dabbing his lips and helping his wife up. They threw worried looks towards the group and to Isabella, wondering if they would destroy the room before themselves. Esme dragged Carlisle out of the dining room and they exited with a loud bang of the doors.

It was silent around the large table now that the parents had left except for the clatter of the serfs clearing the table and refilling drinks.

Emmett stretched in his seat. "Woo! That was quite the tense air!" He said loudly with a grin. "Ow! Damn, woman, why must you hit me?"

Rose sat up straight, brushing a stray blond lock behind her ear. "I could ask you why you must be a buffoon all the time, but we all know the answer to that." She responded, trying to hide the hint of a loving smile. Alice giggled lowly as Jasper pulled her small body towards him.

"Well, I for one cannot stand to be in such an unrefined and barbaric presence." Victoria piped up, sipping down the rest of her drink with her nose raised. She sneered pointedly in Isabella's direction. "It's scandalous, the way she behaves. I bet she was born to a pack of wolves and raised in a cave. Don't you agree, Edward honey?"

Edward looked like a deer caught in front of a speeding horse. He looked frustrated to be caught in such a spot, wanting to defend Isabella – for some unknown reason - yet placate his future-wife at the same time. Luckily, he did not have to choose.

Rose glared at Victoria. "And I cannot put up with a snobby and ill-mannered brat as well, so I believe we both have to endure with what we cannot!" She fumed. Isabella wanted to applaud the woman for her tenacity, but she knew it was not the time.

Victoria jeered at her. "I did not take you to be a servant-lover, Rosalie."

Rose played with her knife almost threateningly, if anyone had the common-sense to see it. Her blazing blue eyes scowled daggers at Victoria. "You mistake me for having respect for them. Do they not clean your dresses? Do they not mend your clothing, tidy your chambers and cook and deliver your food? How do you repay them I return? Belittle and demean them? Demand for more than you are entitled to? Step out of your place here?" She abruptly grasped the twirling knife and stabbed it into the table, causing everyone expect Isabella to flinch. "You are a guest here and I remind you to have respect."

"Well, my dear Rosalie, I only bestow respect upon _people_ who deserveit. All serfs, servants and slaves are not people. They are dirty, ugly and stupid _animals_, belonging in the kitchens and serving the nobles on their hands and knees if it is the will of their greater. _Marie Jones_," she snarled her name as if it were a cuss word. "Is the worst of the animals, as far as I can see. She dresses like a man and acts like a barbarian. Did you not see her verbally attack my father? I surprised that any of us are alive – that woman is wild and illiterate!"

Rosalie exhaled exasperatedly. "I see you are still making mal decisions based on exterior looks. The Queen of England could be dressed in a different manner and you would treat her like _shit!"_ She slammed her cup back onto the table, rattling the rest of the silverware. "Be careful of your attitude, Victoria. It may come to bite you back in your over-pampered rear."

The red-haired demon growled. "Do not talk as if you are superior to me."

Rose sighed. "She never learns." She said almost to herself and turned to Alice. "She never learns." Alice sat there in shock, not wanting to be caught in the middle. "I am not superior, nor am I acting like I am. I am simply telling you what you should know."

"Do not act as if I am the ignorant one, Rosalie. I am the one who has opened her eyes to society and is treating everyone appropriately of their station. It is only the matter of you and your serf-loving siblings and accomplices to see the light." She announced haughtily.

"Lady Victoria, if I may?" Alice asked far too nicely, raising her tiny hand.

Victoria grinned at Alice, assuming she would take her side in the battle against her future sister-in-law. She swept a stray red strand out of her face. "Of course, dear Alice, I hope you have something helpful to say."

Alice smiled cheekily. "I hope so Victoria. May I ask who you treat knights at any castle?"

Victoria was baffled for a moment. Where had knights fit into their little disagreement? "Well – uh, I treat them with the utmost respect, of course! They are of noble blood and sons of lords and knights as well! They protect the country with vigilance and -"

Alice interrupted her babble with a raised hand. "I'm sorry Victoria, but to simply cut it short, you say you respect all knights of every country?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course," she said.

The raven-haired pixie suddenly grinned triumphantly, her smile almost evil. "Then by your logic, you must respect Miss Jones as she has the title of a Lady Knight. She is a knight, part of the Forks army and will serve just like every other knight."

Victoria reddened. "Preposterous." She scanned everyone's faces for a sign of the lie, but saw sincerity. "That is ridiculous. A woman cannot be a knight!" She brusquely stood from her chair so furiously that she knocked down her chair. "Edward, we are leaving. Now."

The blonde lady rolled her eyes. "That is practically a child you are betrothed to, Edward. I hope you make the right decision." She snapped as they left the room, Edward somewhat reluctantly. He glanced back once and Isabella was surprised that he chose to find her eyes. They left the room, Lady Victoria hissing under her breath as she stormed with Edward's sleeve in her claws.

Alice exhaled tiredly when the thud of the doors closing signalled their departure. "Thank God that it is over. Rose, you sure have some guts."

Rose laughed and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Thank you, Alice. I could not take that woman anymore and it felt unbelievably satisfying to finally snap at her." She softened and glanced at a stunned Vanessa. "I apologize, Nessie. You should not have seen that."

However, she ignored her apology. "Oh, my, _goodness!_ Aunt Rosalie, that was amazing!" She sprung up from her seat and pounced on her aunt. Rosalie looked sufficiently shocked but melted into Vanessa's body.

"Do I have to tell off a snob to get a hug like that?" Alice pouted.

* * *

**BRIGAND**

* * *

"Now place your fingers here, here, and here." Isabella instructed, pointing to spots on the fretted wood.

"Here, here, and here," Vanessa repeated as she attempted to spread her fingers on the neck. Her tongue stuck out and little indents appeared on her forehead, indicating that she was concentrating hard. "Is this right, Marie?"

Isabella smiled. "Yes it is. Now strum."

Vanessa struck down on the strings, a jolly sound emerging from the body. It was shaky and slightly muffled, but it still resounded nicely. Her face broke out in a grin and she bounced on the rock. "Oh, my goodness! I did it, Marie! Look, I played a chord on your lute!"

Isabella grinned down at the beaming girl, patting her head. "You sure did, Vanessa. You played the 'C' chord, which is fairly simple. You place your fingers here, here, and here while making this shape with your fingers." She demonstrated, holding up her own fingers.

While Vanessa was struggling to place her fingers on the lute, the serf Michael came running. "Miss Jones and Princess Vanessa, you are being summoned to Lady Alice's chambers." He announced as he huffed from the exertion. The castle and the grounds were large, so she was not surprised at the effects that tolled on his body from delivering a message that was probably from the other side of the castle.

Isabella nodded. "Alright, thank you, Michael. You are dismissed."

Michael bowed slightly before darting off in the other direction. Isabella and Vanessa sat outside on a large, flat rock, watching the men spar against each other and the archers practice pathetically. Isabella was straining to go back and show them how it was _really_ done, but she figured that showing off more than she had would raise some suspicion.

When they arrived before, Jessica and Lauren scrambled to find Vanessa a comfortable place to sit. But when Isabella decided to rest upon the dusty rock, she bounced and rambled about wanting to be as independent and diverse as her. The serfs and knights were surprised to see the Princess let the rock dirty her dress, not even sitting on a blanket as offered. Isabella smiled at the young girl; she was beginning to stray from the castle ways and choosing her own path, though as small as learning the lute or sitting on the rock instead of a comfy chair.

Isabella jumped off the rock, patting down the back of her cloak that had picked up the majority of the dust off the mineral. Vanessa handed over the lute and Isabella pack it back into the case, slinging it over her back and helping the Princess off.

The duo made the long trek towards the other end of the grounds and the opposite side of the castle to Alice's chambers. She assumed that Alice would want Vanessa for some kind of dress coordination for the ball. Isabella inwardly gagged. Victoria would be there as it was in her and her father's honour, also times five hundred. The other visiting ladies were undoubtedly as bad as or worse than the red-headed she-demon.

"Princess Vanessa and her personal guard have arrived." One of the guards at her door announced. We entered her room to find Alice and Rosalie in frenzy, also sending their handmaidens into distress because of their excitement. The room was covered in fabrics of different colours, looking like a rainbow after a nice rain shower. Alice was yelling at a scrambling Rosalie about the grave matters of their masks while the blonde woman was bustling about with dresses draped over her arms.

"What is going on here?" Isabella inquired with a slight smirk, the only indication of amusement that was visible because of her cowl.

Rosalie halted in her movements for a miniscule second before going springing into action. She pushed the gowns in her arms to another handmaid and leapt forward, grasping Isabella's arm and pulling her forward with a yelp. "Oh, thank God that you've arrived in time! Angela, will you please get Marie into her masquerade dress? The Roman inspired one, please."

Isabella gaped at the whirling, blonde-headed she-beast and pulled back furiously out of her grasp. "Rosalie, I will not need the dress because I am not going to the masquerade as a guest. How many times do I have to tell you this?" She threw up her hands in exasperation, almost hitting poor Angela with the dress as she still had her bow in her hands.

"Rosalie, I keep telling you! Vanessa should be wearing this mask instead of this one." Alice came in a fury, holding two masks in her hands, both pink and overly ordinate. "The black lining matches pink the most, I tell you!"

"Black is such a mourning colour, Alice! If you would simply see, you would come to the conclusion that the baby pink and white is much more appropriate for a child of ten summers!" She retorted. "Forget that for a moment, Alice. Marie believes she will not be wearing the dress we had put so much effort into making."

Isabella scoffed. "Bah, 'effort' she says. It is not a lot effort if you simply demand that Mrs. Cope make you a dress!"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "There is much more to be done than just 'demanding' that Mrs. Cope sews the dress. We did not merely purchase it off a market stall. Alice, Vanessa and I have spent hours scouring the markets around the kingdom for the best cloth and devoted many evenings to designing the dress. The mask was no parade to achieve, either." Her face immediately morphed into one of false disappointment. "You do not wish to waste our precious time, do you?"

It was Isabella's turn to roll her eyes. "It was a waste of time when you knew that I was not going to wear that… _dress_. No, Rosalie."

Alice sighed, running her hands over her face in stress. "Marie. Please wear the dress, I am begging you." Isabella did not respond, so she continued. "Fine then, do not come as a guest. Attend the masquerade as her personal guard."

Isabella smirked. "Of course, Lady Alice, that is my job."

Alice took the dress out of a flustered Angela's hands and shoved it at Isabella, who quickly caught it before letting the expensive material tumble to the dirty, cold floor. "You will wear the dress with the mask. You will not ruin the ball by wearing your regular hunting garb and looking out of place. It is your job to protect from the shadows, and you will surely be noticed if you not in the appropriate wear. Understood?"

Isabella usually did not heed the words of another, but the finality in Alice's voice made her lose her own.

* * *

**_A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it seems kinda slow right now, but we're finally leading up to something! Just stay with me, alright? Alright. :)_**

**_To Abby, Christiana and Pia: Wow. Haven't acknowledged you guys in a while. 'Cause you're just that important to me. :D JK, I love you guys! The cow kissing today kinda made me lose my appetite, so I hope ya'll are happy._**

**_To frostedglaze: So since you reviewed chapters 5, 6, and 7 in one shot, I'll try and answer your questions here that haven't been addressed yet:_**

**_1. Maybe not every single female. I kinda like Angela and Mrs. Cope. :) I just like to think that Lauren and Tanya both share terrible hair removal techniques and take their pain out on other innocent people. And cousin loving wasn't uncommon back then with Royal families since they wanted to keep their blood linage as pure as possible. I think. Something like that. ;) Gross either way, but Tanya is a disgusting, conniving beyotch like that. I wouldn't put it past her to marry her _cousin_ to climb the Royal ladder._**

**_2. Maybe. Maybe not. It shall be addressed soon. There's not enough material for Bella to work with if she wants to confront Alice about her "great eye-sight". It'll be soon though. I promise. :) Bella did miss purposely so she could fake Harrison out, making him feel the false sense of security. Also, usage for an alibi works too._**

**_3. Thank you, thank you. It was a pretty great day; I shared it with 7 other people I knew. Anyways, Edward kinda had to go out on those little excursions with Vicky. I mean... it's his betrothed. But let me say that he didn't want to. He wanted to stay with me, but let's just keep that on the down-low, 'kay? I like the idea of riling Edward up with another pretty boy coming for Bella. Just saying. Also, my versions of the Royal women are completely reliant on others to live. They didn't care much for the little details such as directions. Thanks! I'm loving Burnside as well. He's kinda based on the personality of my brother, but my bro ain't a horse. I love him though. Lastly, Bella's reason for thinking Carlisle offed her dad will be revealed later on. I know you're probably getting tired of hearing that, but I don't want to spoil anything for you guys. :) _**

**_To my anon guest: Thanks! I would like to think that, but I'm pretty young and I still have loads to learn. :)_**

**_To everyone else: Thanks for reading, and sorry about the long-ass A/N! I do hope you review, 'cause when I get the notifications of reviews flooding my inbox, I shit bricks. And that doesn't happen very often._**

**_Dreading the upcoming shopping trip,_**

**_-A_**


	9. Scene IX

_**Scene IX**_

* * *

"Alice, I feel absolutely ridiculous." Isabella grouched from behind the changing screen. She had denied all help offered by the handmaids, making the task of pulling on her Roman-inspired gown tedious and time-consuming. The rustling heard behind the three other changing screens, indicating that the three other ladies were most likely changing into their garments.

"Oh, Marie, don't be a babe! I know you'll be beautiful in that gown; I can practically see it." Her voice gushed.

"You must have an awfully strong sight to see that." Isabella grumbled, her hands tied behind her back attempting to fasten the button through the hoops on her own, but could not reach. She dropped her arms with a frustrated sigh. "Angela, would you mind helping me, please?"

The dark-haired maid came to Isabella, laughing quietly at the look of frustration on her face. "Not having a fun time, Marie?"

Isabella groaned very un-lady-like. "No, fun is the very last thing I am feeling at the moment. How does Alice simply wrestle me in the dress with only her words?" She wondered aloud yet hushed enough for the tiny-pixie not to hear.

Angela chuckled. "Yes, Alice may charm a knight to juggle like a jester if it was her wish." She scanned Isabella. "So what is it you need help with?"

Isabella turned so her back was facing the maid. "I cannot button the back. Will you help me?"

"Of course," She replied, deftly popping the buttons through the loops of her dress. Isabella stiffened at the feeling of another person's fingers on her person other than herself. It was a sensation she was not used to. Angela seemed to have sensed her discomfort and finished quickly. "There, I'm finished." Isabella turned to face her, making Angela whistle. "My, Miss Jones, you look beautiful. Highly unorthodox, but you are beautiful all the same."

There was not a hint of petty jealousy in her voice; she was genuinely sincere. Isabella blushed and bit her lip. "Thank you." She mumbled, grabbing the cape off the top of the changing screen. Isabella attached the cape to the shoulders of her dress.

"Are you done, Marie?" Alice called out.

"Unfortunately." Isabella grumbled, leaving her changing area.

Alice was wearing a pixie-like dress, the skirt flaring out limply instead of the wide and cumbersome skirts that were all the rage recently. It began with a lighter, looser beige corset flecked with gold. Her outer skirt was of the same colour and pattern as her corset but eventually melted into a diluted, moss green from the middle towards the bottom. Tiny pink, purple and yellow flowers lined the skirt. Her short hair was graced with a crown of delicate leaves and flowers.

She gasped. "Marie, you look stunning!" She exclaimed. "Will you turn?"

Isabella obliged hesitantly, twirling in a small skirt and stumbling pathetically. She could disarm an opponent with ease but could not move properly for her life in a damned dress. Giggles erupted from Vanessa, who was peeking at Isabella from behind her changing screen. Jessica attempted to lace her up while she was squirming in her spot.

Alice grinned. "It's perfect. You may stop." She instructed.

Isabella hadn't even noticed she was still spinning and tripped slightly when she stopped, becoming dizzy. God, she was uncomfortable. She was not accustomed to skirts of any kind, especially one so form-fitting. Her gown consisted of only two colours; an innocent ivory and a proud gold. Her shoulders and her sleeves were lined with golden flowers. Despite the corset tightening and defining her chest, the gold belt outlining her small waist and the mermaid-like skirt, she felt… odd. Almost regal, like she was a princess instead of Alice or Vanessa.

"Rosalie? How are you faring?" Alice asked.

"Oh, I believe I am faring quite well, actually." Rosalie stepped out, her maids trailing behind her.

Rosalie's dress looked fairly simple, though stunningly elegant on her lithe form. Her dress was only blue, creating the illusion of ice or snow. The neckline dipped into a shallow 'V', the corset making her already considerable chest look even more pronounced. The sleeves were only until her elbows, a sheer, light blue material falling from her arms like a fine sheet of snow. Her skirt seemed to be made of snowflakes themselves.

"You look gorgeous!" Alice gushed, rushing over and spinning the blonde lady in a circle.

Isabella smirked dryly. "Cold, dry and withering… a lot like ice. The dress does suit you, Rosalie."

Rosalie turned to Isabella, raising an eyebrow. "Is that slander, Miss Jones? I can put you in the dungeon for that."

Isabella laughed. "I doubt it, Rosalie. You would rather have me wear your creation and show it off to the other ladies that have me thrown in prison. Nice try." Isabella jested, but softened considerably. "You do really look beautiful, Rosalie."

Rose bowed her head. "Thank you. Vanessa, are you ready?"

There was a scuffle behind Vanessa's changing screen, a thump and a crash when Vanessa stumbled out from behind her area. She attempted to take a step towards the ladies but failed miserably, tripping over her two feet and sprawling painfully onto the floor.

"Oh, my goodness gracious," Rosalie mumbled just as Alice shot forward and plucked the tiny girl up, propping her on her feet. Vanessa swayed for a moment, using Alice's arm to steady herself.

"What in world have you been drinking, Nessie?" Alice jested lightly.

"I have not been drinking anything!" Vanessa snapped back, stomping her foot and nearly face-planting again.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Alright, young one, lift your skirt. What footwear are you wearing?"

Vanessa opened her mouth and closed it, repeating several times. She seemed to be battling an inward battle with herself, but the withering glares of her cousin and soon-to-be cousin put that interior bout to rest. Nessie bowed her head in defeat and lifted her skirts enough to reveal her astonishingly high-heeled boots.

Isabella whistled. "Impressive; I don't think I could even get footwear of that height onto my feet."

"Do not encourage her!" Rosalie scolded Isabella. She raised her hands in defeat, backing up until he reached a chair and sank down on it gratefully. Rosalie turned to the young Princess. "What were you thinking, young lady?"

"All the grown-up ladies are wearing footwear like this now." She said in defense.

"I emphasize on 'grown-up' adults, Nessie. You are but ten summers. You should not be wearing these types of footwear until you are, at the very least, engaged. And what is this? Why, in the name of the Lord, are you wearing a corset this tight?" Alice yelled, tugging on the laces of Vanessa's corset.

Vanessa coughed, her face turning pink to blue swiftly. "Can't – breathe…"

As she dexterously unlaced the strings, she fumed. "Jessica! Lauren! What is the meaning of this?"

The two handmaids rushed out at the call of their names, their heads bowed and in a deep curtsy. They relaxed at Alice's word but stiffened quickly at the malice in her voice. Jessica coughed. "It was, uh – ahem, sorry," she attempted to stall.

Rosalie would not have any of that. "Get it out, woman, before I have a guard beat it out of you." She threatened.

While the noblewomen and the handmaidens were exchanging words, Vanessa trudged dejectedly over to Isabella and placed herself in her lap without a word. Isabella pulled the small princess closer, not worrying about how inappropriate the action was because of their differing stations.

"Are you okay, Vanessa?" Isabella inquired, running her finger over her soft cheek.

She sighed. "I am alright."

At the threat of a beating, the words spilled out of Jessica's mouth. "It was Lauren's fault! She told me to dress Princess Vanessa how she is!"

"Hush, you -" Lauren's words were cut off as Rosalie's hand whipped across her face. Isabella was impressed again; the force of Rosalie's slap literally made the handmaid fall onto her knees and there were already the tell-tale signs of a bruise forming.

"Let her speak." Rosalie said stoically. Isabella glanced towards Alice and Vanessa to see the young Princess heaving in breaths just as Alice relieved her of her binds. Isabella pitied the young Princess; she was going to be forced to endure those same bindings when she grew older.

"It was Lauren's fault!" Jessica repeated, her eyes screwed shut in preparation for the same blow from Rosalie that Lauren received. "I was just doing as I was told! Lauren told me to put the corset on the young Princess, stating that she was now old enough for it! The footwear, as well! It was not my fault!"

Rosalie raised her hand to strike the girl, but sighed and lowered her arm. "Fine, you are dismissed for the moment. Stand by for orders." She said. Jessica curtsied gratefully, scampering out of the room. Isabella could see the tears springing in her eyes as she ran past her. Lauren moved to follow, but Rosalie stopped her. "Excuse me, Laurel; I do not believe I dismissed you."

Isabella snickered at Rosalie purposely mistaking her name. Lauren narrowed her eyes but wiped it off of her face just as quickly. "Do not believe the daughter of a whore, Lady Rosalie. She is petty and a filthy liar." She accused.

Rose chuckled, though it was void of humour. "It is amusing how you describe yourself, Laurel. You know full well that you do not make the decisions regarding anyone above your station, and _Princess_ Vanessa is well above you. None of us has ordered for Vanessa's dress to be worn this way, and Jessica is neither conspiratorial nor idiotic enough to defy us. You are permanently dismissed as Vanessa's handmaid. Look forward to the rest of your days cleaning out the horse dung."

Lauren stared at her with wide eyes. "You – you – you cannot do this!" She sputtered in outrage.

"Oh, but she can." Alice said, coming beside Rosalie for support. "As well as I, and I agree with Rosalie. You are dismissed. If you come near Vanessa, you will be placed in the stocks for as long as we wish. Understood?"

It was painfully clear that Lauren wished to protest even further, but the words were lodged in her throat as she stared at the two ladies towering over her. Their glares washed over her like a bucket of icy cold water. She stood shakily and curtsied. "As you desire, my ladies," she said almost mockingly. Lauren attempted to exit the chambers with her head held high, but Rosalie's hand print was evident on her face.

Alice sighed tiredly and joined Isabella and Vanessa. "I need a drink."

Rosalie sunk down into her chair as well, exhaling deeply. "As do I, but I wish to save my coherence and the drink for the ball. Victoria will undoubtedly be a large thorn in both of our sides and I need all the wit and drink I can get so I can avoid striking the woman. That would not tide over well."

Isabella glanced at the water clock in the room and groaned. "Another couple hours before the ball begins."

"I already saw some of the guests arriving at the castle, settling into their rooms for the duration of their stay." Alice noted. "We are closing in on time and we still must do our hair and fix our jewellery. Angela? Will you please aid Marie in placing her hair decorations?"

The dark-hair maid nodded her head, leading Isabella into her changing area. Isabella settled into the chair waiting in the middle, watching Angela moving about. She gathered some golden flowers matching the ones on her dress and placed them to the side.

When she picked up some elaborate headgear that also attached to under her chin, Isabella stopped her. "No, no, no, no – No! I refuse to wear that!"

Angela took a step back in astonishment. "What?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I am fully aware that you heard me, Angela, but I will repeat. I. Will. _Not_. Wear. That." She snapped pointedly. "You might as well throw it into a fire or feed it to the livestock for all I care. I would actually prefer that over to the former."

"You must wear it, Marie!" She exclaimed, clutching the offending headpiece in her hands. Isabella glared at it, hoping it would burst into flames just by her gaze.

She raised her eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because – because – because you must! It's simply not done, to not wear anything to cover your head! You'll get sick, you'll be mocked, and it will be believed that you are not of good breeding, you'll be thought to be luring men…" She rambled on.

Isabella could not help but roll her eyes again. "I have exposed my hair many times before this. I have never gotten sick. I have acted none like a lady of good breeding, and I possess the title of a knight, which is gossip-worthy in itself. I have killed many men and dress like one as well on a daily basis. I do not even care about what the other's think; their thoughts and words are petty and worthless to me. May I go on?"

"But -"

"No." Isabella said with finality. "Say another word and I will sever your hands from your wrists and shove them down your throat."

Angela stopped, her hands shaking and her eyes wide. Perhaps she had gone too far with the young serf, Isabella thought. Angela soon regained posture and placed the offending headgear away from Isabella, instead holding the tiny golden flowers and a golden wire circlet, white gemstones held in place by the wire.

She held the pieces up for Isabella to see. "Will you at least wear this?"

Isabella scanned the flowers and the circlets. She looked at the girl and saw her fidgeting in her place. She was undoubtedly fearful of the consequences of not heeding Alice's and Rosalie's instructions having just seen Jessica and Lauren defy them. If the serf was willing to compromise, then Isabella could as well.

She nodded. "I will compromise." Angela let out a breath of relief and went to touch Isabella's long, wavy hair but she stopped the serf. "No, I will braid my own hair."

"Are you -?"

"I am sure, Angela. Stop worrying, please." She said frustrated and began to plait her hair. She took a gold ribbon and fastened the end, throwing it casually over her shoulder. Angela opened her mouth to protest the hairstyle Isabella chose, but she closed her mouth when a glare was shot at her.

"I will be placing the flowers in your hair, now." She squeaked.

Isabella sat still as Angela worked quickly over her, clipping the little flowers into her braid. When she finished, she took the circlet and placed it on her head, pushing stray strand of hair one way and another before deeming her perfect. She held out a tray to Isabella, a mask place on a cushion.

"Here is your mask for tonight." Angela said.

Isabella took the ivory mask with gold lace and scattered pearls. Secretly, she loved it. It was delicate, it was elegant; the opposite of her true persona. With the mask, perhaps she could pretend, for one night, to be who she is not. "It is satisfactory, but there is one problem." She said aloud. "No stick. I would need my hands to be free." She slipped the rod out of between the fabrics, tossing it to the table.

Angela frowned. "How will you hold it to your face?"

She thought for a moment. "Do you have ribbon?"

Within a few moments, Isabella and Angela had measured the length needed for the ribbon to tie around her head. Angela took up her sewing kit and began to alter the mask as Isabella stepped out of her area to see that she was the last to be finished. Alice had a veil tucked under her flower crown and Rosalie had an icy blue veil attached to two intricate clasps at the temples of her head and Vanessa wore her princess tiara.

"What has been taking you so long? Why are you not wearing your headpiece?" Rosalie demanded.

Alice smirked dryly. "I see you are wearing the circlet I left you." She turned to the angry blonde. "You must agree that the headpiece that your aunt gave you is horrendous! I could not let her wear that ugly excuse of an accessory!"

"You would have better attempts to fasten that thing on a mule, Rosalie." Isabella added, "Or one of the empty-headed nobles. Simply say 'it's all the rage in France!' and they'll wear it without another word. It has gotten me out of wearing many horrid pieces."

"Do you know what I am dreading?" Alice piped up, shifting to another subject. The three gravitated towards the seating area where Vanessa was playing with Angela, who was trying to indulge the young girl while sewing the mask. The three sat delicately in their respective seats. "I am dreading wearing wimples when I am married to Jasper."

Rosalie groaned. "I agree. I'll become like Marie."

"You'll become an unrefined ruffian-woman?" Isabella jested dryly.

"No!" Rosalie smacked Isabella's arm playfully. "I'll defy what society believes of me. Why must woman conceal what God gave us in the first place? Our hair is the most innocent feature of a woman and I believe it is completely harmless."

Alice snickered. "If anyone of the clergy hears you, they'll most likely burn you at the stake for heresy."

"Are you dreading wimples as well, Marie?" Rosalie prompted, ignoring Alice.

Isabella grinned. "Of course, those things are atrocious. The difference is that I will most likely not be marrying, though."

Rose and Alice gasped, their hands flying to their mouths in shock. Isabella huffed at the common gesture; it was so over-used and Isabella has seen it done so many times before. "Why? Are you going to let your bloodline end with you? How will you survive without a man to provide for you?" Alice questioned with interest.

Isabella frowned. "First and foremost; I am thoroughly insulted by your words. A woman does not need a man to provide for them. Vanessa can testify first-hand of my abilities in combat. I have survived on my own thus far without a companion at all. And I do not worry for my bloodline; my mother has a sister who has a dozen children and my father has a brother with at least one surviving son."

"I believe Alice did not mean harm, but do you not wish for love?" Rosalie asked. "Or have you loved someone already?"

A flash of dark hair and copper skin flitted through Isabella's mind with a silly smile that used to make her tingle. She shook that thought away quickly; she did not come to the castle to relive her past. "I – I believe I did. At one point, yes, I was in love. Now I am not and I do not believe I will be in love again. It is simply as God desired."

* * *

**BRIGAND**

* * *

Isabella stood in her chambers, lifting her skirt to attach her smaller daggers to her thighs. It would be quite uncomfortable to dance and move with the weapons on her legs, but there were simply no other ways to conceal her knives without alerting any of the visitors. She also had her long dagger sheathed and strapped to her back under the cape, sufficiently hidden if she did not twirl too forcefully.

As she waited outside Vanessa's chambers to escort her to the Great Hall, Isabella reviewed her mental check list. Quivers of ten arrows each were strapped under the tables of Alice and Rosalie along with a recurve bow. If anything was amiss, they would retrieve the weapons if they could and deliver them to Isabella. Vanessa would be seated with the Royal family, and because of the disguise, Isabella would be seated with Sir James's family as Maria Hunter, his cousin for the evening. There was an array of weapons attached to the large table, rendering it easy for her to retrieve her things.

Isabella shivered in disgust. Sir James proved to be viler and more debauched as time went by. He constantly leered at Isabella and made the effort to 'accidently' touch her person. After multiple threats, Sir James still had not stopped his inappropriate glances and touches. She felt like purging herself of her meal when she thought of being his 'cousin' for the evening. She knew that he would attempt something highly inappropriate and she was prepared to publicly shame the both of them. She was solely attending cloaked as a guest so she may be able to trail Vanessa closer than dressed as a guard; it was known for many unfortunate occurrences to happen during a masked party. Sir James was just an unfortunate companion.

Everything with cleared with the King the day before by Alice. Isabella was wary of the girl; how could she know that Isabella would agree? How did she know how to tailor the dress to her needs? How did she know that she would not wear the hideous headgear that Rosalie tried to force upon her?

Vanessa exited her chambers looking much more refreshed after a mid-day rest. "Are you ready, Princess?" Isabella asked.

The Princess pouted. "Must you call me that?"

Isabella snickered. "It is simply who you are, Princess. No avoiding it, especially tonight." She sobered. "You must be cautious, alright? Everyone is disguised under their masks, so you cannot know who anyone truly is. Only heed the words of your aunt, uncle, your cousins and Rosalie. Even if the person is the King of France, you do not follow or interact with them without a chaperone. I will attempt to stay close as I can. Do you understand?"

Vanessa nodded eagerly, excited to be attending her first masquerade ball. "Yes, I will not trust strangers. May we go now?"

Isabella smiled down at the young girl and led her away. They met up as promised with Alice and Rosalie, making the customary greetings to the guests before the real festivities. It was a flurry of curtsies and bows, noblewomen and noblemen alike filtering in quickly. The crowds of people made Isabella nervous; there were simply too many people to protect the Princess. It was unnerving.

They began with the meals. Isabella sat with Sir James' family, as planned, in plain view of the Royal family. She could see Vanessa rambling happily to her aunt, who was listening with rapt attention and laughing at the appropriate time. There were two seats missing at their table; one for Edward and the other most likely for Lady Victoria. King Aro joined them at their table, his guards poised stiffly behind him as he enjoyed the festivities. Even Lady Tanya was present, biting despondently at her first course vegetables.

Isabella picked at her food. They were only at their first course but she was already beginning to feel full. If she wished to sample the rest of the plates, she would have to eat sparingly. When the other nobles at the table were preoccupied, Isabella slipped pieces of food into her large handkerchief.

"Are you alright, Maria? Is the food to your liking?" Sir James leaned towards her, placing his hand on her knee. His breath fanned her face and she fought the urge to gag; the scent of his food was evident in his breath and the scent he chose to hold for the evening was overwhelming. The freesia she had wrapped in linen and attached to her skirt could not battle against his stench.

"The food is alright but there is something else lacking." Isabella began.

"And what is that?" He prompted eagerly, leaning in closer.

"Personal space! Remove yourself from my person or I will do it for you. Do not make me publicly shame you, Sir James. I will not hesitate to act if you do something highly inappropriate that I do not appreciate." She snapped.

Sir James flinched back at the malevolence in her voice but guffawed joyfully after regaining his posture. "Ah, Maria, I love the fire you hold in your soul."

"Do you believe this to be a game, Sir James? If I must speak in your language, then I will. Play with fire and you _will_ get burned. Is that clear enough for you?" She stated, gripping her meat knife in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

He simply brushed off her statement with a chuckle and sat back in his seat. "Crystal clear," he replied coolly with a smirk on his face. Oh, Isabella sorely wished to wipe it off his face but she would be forced to kill him in a duel between knights.

Second course was beginning when the distinct creak of the Great Hall doors echoed throughout the room. Isabella glanced long enough to see the palpable evidence of the identities of the couple; the fiery long locks of Lady Victoria and the copper head of Sir Edward. Her elaborate dress contrasted against Edward's simply adorned surcoat and breeches.

Isabella immediately took notice of Lady Victoria clutching at his arm, latching on like the vapid leech she was. Then she felt ashamed; not for thinking negative thoughts of a purebred princess but for the feelings bubbling in herself. Isabella thought that she was quite educated; she knew four languages and how to mutilate a body in more ways that the King himself could not count. She had travelled to a dozen countries and is an expert in countless skills. How could she not identify the emotions erupting in her chest?

"All hail Sir Edward of Forks and Lady Victoria of Volterra!" The guards at the Great Hall doors announced.

The room repeated the greeting which Isabella mumbled along with them. The serfs assigned to her table cleared her plate and replaced it with some kind of bird that was still steaming. It was horrendous; dressed with vegetables and glorified to be eaten.

"Maria, why don't you tell us about yourself? How is Castle Forks treating you?" Lady Mary, Sir James' mother, asked her politely.

Isabella forced a well-mannered smile. "Castle Forks is absolutely beautiful, my lady. I have been graced with the opportunity to serve as the lady-in-waiting to Princess Alice herself and she exceeds all expectations. I have been treated well here."

"Oh, I cannot help but admire your gown, Maria. It is simple yet elegant at the same time and does wonders for your physique. It's refreshing; I have not seen a dress of this style. May I ask who designed it? I would like to follow the designer." She asked gleefully.

"Princess Alice and Lady Rosalie had taken it upon themselves to design my dress for tonight and it was made by Mrs. Cope, the woman who is in charge of all the serfs in the castle. If you would like to arrange an appointment with Mrs. Cope, I would be happy to help." Isabella said, popping a piece of meat into her mouth.

"I was hoping to pay the ladies a visit. Would that be arrange-able?" Lady Mary inquired, patting her mouth daintily.

_Most likely not,_ Isabella thought, but said, "I will speak to my lady."

Lady Mary grinned joyfully before putting her handkerchief to the side and standing, her husband following the lead. "Will you dance with me, my lord husband James? I am quite fond of this song the minstrels are playing."

James' mother and father walked off to the middle of the Great Hall, other couples taking their lead. Isabella fully intended on staying at the table, picking at her roasted bird but Sir James seemed to have other ideas. He stood, patting down his surcoat and holding out a hand to Isabella. When she chose to glare at it scornfully rather than to take it, Sir James waved his hand impatiently. "Well?"

Isabella looked at his disdainfully. "Well what?"

He rolled his eyes petulantly. "Come and dance with me."

She barked out a laugh, making the rest of the nobles at their table jump. "I'd rather gouge my eyes out than dance with you, Sir James. Go take the hand of another unfortunate lady who has no partner."

Sir James gestured over to the Royal table. Isabella glanced over as well, seeing a small noble boy about the same age as Princess Vanessa taking her out onto the dance floor. Isabella cursed out loud. She stood abruptly and took his hand furiously, mumbling blasphemies under her breath as he pulled her onto the dance floor.

"Watch your damned hands." Isabella snapped as a warning.

Sir James simply took her hand and led her into the _basse danse_, a slow and intimate dance between the couple. Isabella barely paid attention to the steps that she had learned as a child and always kept her eyes on Vanessa, dancing joyfully with the young boy. She chattered into his ear as they swayed one the floor, the boy smiling indulgently. Isabella let out a breath of relief; the boy was not mistreating the young princess and she was safe.

"Are you having an amusing time, Maria?" Sir James asked.

If he was playing a charade of graciousness, then she could as well. "Yes, I am thank you." She responded.

Soon, the relaxed and lazy music bridged into an upbeat tune, the rest of the dancers following suit and jumping into the cheerful _galliard._ Isabella felt anxiety filtering into her system; the _galliard_ involved exchanging partners and Isabella did not like the idea of Vanessa dancing with multiple partners much more than having to dance with anyone else.

Isabella kept her eyes so focused on Vanessa that she didn't even notice the partner change until the man had grasped her hand. She took in the softness of his palm while feeling the strength and calluses of years of work. She raised her head and regretted it instantly; bronze locks and smoldering green eyes behind the white mask burned in her mind.

"Hello, fair maiden." Sir Edward greeted, hopping as he danced around her.

She curtsied. "Good evening, Sir Edward." Isabella struggled to swallow past the lump in her throat and fixed her sight upon Vanessa, a safe view. She brief caught a glance of bouncing fiery hair, Lady Victoria, dancing along with Sir James.

He grinned under his mask and took her hand as she danced her part. Isabella almost felt like swooning, but caught herself in the emotion and mentally slapped herself to next week. "It seems awfully unfair that you know of my name and I do not know yours."

Isabella dearly wanted to roll her eyes at his attempt to be suave, but all of her focus was on keeping her body in the motion of dancing and keeping an eye on Vanessa. She had no concentration left over to scoff at his antics. "I am Maria Hunter, Sir James' cousin." She said, her bottom lip escaping in between her teeth.

To her utter surprise, Edward took her bottom lip and tugged it from the confines of her teeth. He glared at her playfully. "Do not do that, Miss Hunter. You have no need to be embarrassed or shy."

Isabella sputtered in shock at the casual touches, the desire to simply cut and slice her way through a problem with the aid of her weapons. The dress would be a hindrance though. "I – I do not know what to say to that, Sir Edward."

"Say nothing more of the topic, then." He said. "Tell me about yourself."

She laughed nervously, her eyes flicking towards Vanessa. Isabella sighed in relief; she had changed partners to be with Emmett. Her gaze flinted over the bright red hair of Lady Victoria; it was nearly impossible to not notice the fiery mane. Her laughter and light giggled were heard over the joyful music, and Isabella couldn't help but notice how friendly she and Sir James were together.

"What would you like to know?" She said as response.

Edward feigned a mask of thoughtfulness before holding a finger up, mouthing, 'aha'. "May I ask what your favourite colour is?"

Isabella pressed her lips together, holding the laughter behind her teeth. Sir Edward smirked as he circled around her, holding her hand delicately. "That is quite the strange question, Sir Edward. Out of all the things you may ask; my favourite colour."

Edward laughed. "Oh, you may learn quite a bit from the tiniest of clues."

Isabella could not help but shiver as a cold front flitted past. Her spine tensed, her throat was suddenly parched and the need to flee the room was strong. Why did his words cause such distress? They were surely what they were; just words. But she could not find it in herself to believe it.

"Green." She mumbled.

Edward placed his hands on her hips and lifted her into the air for a _lavolta_. Isabella closed her eyes, not wanting to look down at the deep green orbs that were below her. Isabella prayed to the Lord that he would not feel the weapons hidden under her dress; having to weave her way out of another unnecessary problem would be a burden. She felt the ground return to her feet and pranced away.

Isabella curtsied just as Edward bowed. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Hunter. Perhaps I shall see you next ball; without the mask?" He asked with a husky tone, bringing her hand to his lips and pecking the skin lightly. Heat flowed up her arms and into her system as if she tasted the finest wine. She shivered; most definitely not from a draft.

She flushed. "Perhaps."

Edward danced off, switching partners. Sir James frolicked back, a glaze over his eyes and a dreamy smile of his lips. Isabella glanced at Victoria, finding the same look. She hummed to herself; she would have to investigate that further.

The minstrels finished off the song with a flourish. Isabella dipped into a shallow curtsy as James bowed with a giddy grin. "Thank you for the dance, fair maiden." James said while kissing her hand just as Edward did not too long ago. Instead of the pleasant warmth, she felt nothing but disgust at having his vile lips on her skin.

She snatched her hand away and stomped back to the table, in highly un-lady-like manner. James followed her back, taking his seat beside her just as she settled into her chair. She was glad that she was sitting for what happened next.

The doors of the Great Hall swung open violently, nearly crashing into the stone walls had the guards stationed at the door caught it just in time. Every single head turned to the commotion at the front. Food and entertainment was temporarily forgotten.

The King stood and strode to the door with fury at his festivities being interrupted. His guards followed close by. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded.

A courier huffed, most likely from exertion of travelling from faraway lands. Two knights dressed in garb that differed from Fork's insignia helped hold the young man on his feet. Fork's guards stood behind them in a state of confusion and worry.

"My Grace," the courier heaved in another breath before looking up to the furious King, "Baron Vladimir is dead!"

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay guys. I've got no excuses except for me sucking ass. This is my last pre-written chapter and excuse it being complete rubbish, I only got it done since I took a sick day (sore throat and massive headache along with some awesome stomach pains) and I barely skimmed over it. Thought you might like it now than never.**_

_**Eating left-over shepherds' pie,**_

_**-A**_


	10. Scene X

_**Scene X**_

* * *

Once again, sleep has evaded her.

Isabella groaned, rolling over in her bed and facing her thrown-open window. _The stars are awfully bright tonight,_ she remarked with a lazy sigh, her folded hands cushioning her head below her pillow. It was too happy, too peaceful for a night that the Royals and the visitors had just experienced, though the uproar did put a sly smirk on her face at the time.

It was much more of a flurry once word of Vladimir's death had reached the castle. The King was much more enraged than before the ball was merely interrupted; his face reddening and his breaths coming out short. He called Edward, Emmett and Jasper to his side and they all left the Great Hall along with the courier and a band of knights scampering after them, unquestionably to press more information from the poor boy that looked like he was ready to collapse.

The ball was never the same after the event that just occurred to Isabella, but the masquerade was never of interest to her. Isabella had to endure the relentless gossip of James' mother in her ear and her husband's stewing of him not being invited along with the King to investigate the death. James was still unrelenting with his impropriety soaring to new levels; his hand sneaking much too close to her bosom and his lips touching her neck. His ministrations were stopped when Isabella stabbed her knife into his chair, right by his thigh and slicing open his breeches.

Even though his presence was severely unwanted, a sliver of sadistic pleasure rushed through her at the thought of Vladimir's death. It was a pleasurable time; just simpler than the life she was living now of nobles, knights and drama.

The announcement of Vladimir's death evoked another round of questions for herself in her mind. Why did it take so many days for it to reach Castle Forks and the King? Protocol called for a messenger to immediately be dispatched to notify the King the moment a body of a noble, especially one part of his court, was found. News of Vladimir's death should've come days ago.

Her mind would not shut down after that. Vanessa went to bed without much prodding, the masquerade having drained a great deal of energy from her young body. As Jessica and a new handmaid Millicent tucked the princess into bed, the young girl was prattling into Isabella's ear about the young boy who had initially brought her to the dance floor. Alice and Rosalie however commanded her presence while they undressed.

"I cannot believe what the courier announced." Alice said, shrugging out of her dress.

"What I do not understand is why Vladimir's death is of any importance. He was an old fool anyways. Perhaps time and his age have simply caught up to him." Rosalie speculated from behind her changing screen. "He was simply a baron; nothing like a duke or an earl."

If Isabella could see Alice, she would be rolling her eyes. "I wonder how you survive in this court without knowing the basic gossip, Rose." The soft swish of fabric fell to the floor. "Vladimir is close to Carlisle. He _was _close to Carlisle; I believe I should say, in both his court and personal affairs. His death would certainly strike close to father. If it was merely how the Lord deemed it is, by old age and his will, then he would be simply mourning. If it were by someone's hand… he would certainly be plotting their demise." Alice explained. "He was much protected, though. I doubt it was murder. Most likely bad shrimp," she drawled with the wave of a dismissive hand.

Isabella felt the thrill of the chain reaction her actions caused and another person nonbeliever of her abilities. The King would most likely never catch her; she left nearly no evidence of her arrival and she would be able to anticipate his actions by being within the walls. The game of cat and mouse… it was her favourite of them all.

"Your father certainly does not have a good taste in barons. Every time I saw the man, I had shivers up my spine. There was something off about the man, don't you think?" Rosalie said, emerging from behind her curtain in her thick shift.

Alice stepped out as well, donning a much more ornate shift than Rosalie because of her higher station. The three took their respective seats in the seating area, the fireplace crackling with a warm and cozy fire. Alice's handmaid took a pot out of the fire and poured the three women a cup of tea.

"I agree. The man had a pair of beady eyes that seemed much too observing. It was as if he were leering through the layers of my dress and into my skin." Alice shuddered behind her teacup. She took a comforting sip and sighed. "I am apologetic that my father will be missing a close accomplice, but I am grateful that I will not have to feel his glare no longer."

"Now his spirit shall haunt you for your words," Isabella joked, chugging her tea and pouring another serving before the maid could.

The rest of the night was filled with playful jesting between Alice and Rose, Isabella smiling slightly while sipping on her tea. It was as if it was the calm before the inevitable storm. As she lay in her bed, the corner of her lips quirked at the memories she learned to cherish.

Isabella pulled herself up into a sitting position in the bed, one strap of her shift slightly slipping down her shoulder and her sheets gathered at her lap. For what must have been the millionth time, she glanced at the water clock and hissed. Minutes had only passed from when she last checked the time and it was still only an hour past midnight. The day would drag torturously the next day if she could not shut her mind and she would need every drop of concentration for her planned tasks.

Instead of laying down for another fruitless attempt at capturing sleep, Isabella slid out of her bed and slipped on a simple cotton green gown. She fitted some light slippers on her tiny feet and took her dagger, strapping it around her waist. She tied her cape around her shoulders, picked up her bow and slid a quiver of arrows on her back.

She padded out of the room, closing her door behind her and engaging the lock. Sir Eric was stationed outside Vanessa's door and raised an eyebrow when he saw her emerge from her chambers. "Where are you going, Miss Jones?"

Isabella sighed and rubbed her face tiredly. "Sleep eludes me, Sir Eric. I figured I should tire my mind at the archery range."

He nodded. "Aye, but make sure that would have enough sleep to not doze beside the Princess in the morn."

She tipped her head, not bothering to correct the young guard that she would not be in the Princess's attendance the nest day. "I will. Sorry for the interruption."

Sir Eric resumed his apathetic expression as he stood stiffly at Vanessa's door. Isabella turned on her heel and strode down the halls and staircases with ease. The whole castle was silent with an air of tension; the guests knew that there was something amiss with the arrival of the courier if they hadn't heard his initial exclamation and the serfs were delirious with keeping the castle in order and the food flowing.

Isabella emerged onto the castle grounds, the grass swaying languidly with the breeze. She tied her hair with a leather piece and pulled her hood up so her hair would not impede her vision. The moon was full, the livestock were peacefully asleep and only the slight howling of a wolf in the distance was heard. If only there weren't the tall castle walls enclosing her as if she were a caged lioness, she would've almost deluded herself to believing she was back home in her cabin in the far woods.

Even if, it was the sense of peace was what she lived for.

Isabella stood in the middle of the field, two hundred metres from her target. She held her bow with an arrow perched on the string and closed her eyes, taking a second to savour the moment. Ever since she arrived at Castle Forks, life has been a riot of the unknown events and emotions. She missed her past life of living day to day, not attached in any form. Now there was Vanessa to think about. Perhaps Alice and Rosalie, if she were so inclined to think of them as friends.

A flash of bronze hair instead of the coal locks passed through her eyelids. Green eyes instead of brown appeared before her.

What of Edward? What was he?

Her memories flew to another time, when her fate at the castle was in her own hands rather than anyone else's. She remembered the angry man before her who absolutely exuded raw power yet elegance in his movements. She recalled the flex of his muscles as the swung, the lock of his jaw as he made a decision. Blazing emerald orbs and copper bright tresses would be forever burned in her eyes.

But alas, that was nothing something she did not wish to think about that night.

Instead, she let go of the arrow and watched it fly. The thought of it missing its mark did not worry her at all; it did not miss nor would it ever miss on purpose. It sunk cleanly into the red bull's-eye in the middle of the target. The lack of interest in the shot, the missing adrenaline pump of the lethality that was delivered by her hands was what worried her. She used to revel in the feeling, craved the pump of the consequences it brought.

Now what did she desire?

Perhaps it was what happened next that answered her question.

"It's awfully late to be practicing such activities."

Isabella paused in her movements, the bow still held upright. She closed her eyes and breathed in heavily. If she concentrated enough, she could smell his distinct scent of leather and just his unique fragrance blowing in her direction. Slowly, she lowered her bow and hunched her head slightly.

"I may say the same." Isabella mumbled under her breath and turned with a tired exhale. "What brings you here so early, Sir Edward? It is an hour past midnight. I would imagine you enjoying the presence of a warm body, presumably Lady Victoria. But of course, none will be the wiser if it is another." Isabella tried to quip lightly, but the pang in her chest quickly ruined the joke.

Edward was still clad in the clothes from the ball but was slightly wrinkled from time's wear. He brushed his hand through his hair, the substance holding the tresses together already gone, most likely because of his disruptive fingers. "My father demanded our presence because of Vladimir's death. I did not realize he would keep us until after midnight."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I figured as much, as well as Lady Rosalie and Lady Alice. I believe everyone at the ball knows as well. Why don't you tell me something I don't know, Sir Edward?" She spat. Inside, she was surprised at the irritability laced in her voice.

He glared at her. "So you may share gossip with the other nobles?"

She whirled back around and angrily snatched an arrow out from her quiver. Just as she was about to let it fly, she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. The smell of dew on the grass and the aroma of bread from the kitchens that lingered from supper infiltrated her nose as she tried to filter out the scent of the man behind her.

"Forget it then if you do not wish to tell me. It's of no matter." She grinded her teeth and heard only the thrum of the string as the arrow slid from her fingers and into a target. What she didn't notice was his change in position and possessions until another arrow besides hers sailed through the air and missed the target. She frowned. "And what are you doing?"

"Practicing," he said, loading another arrow.

She watched his shot and snickered as it missed as well. "It looks more like you're missing to me."

His face took on an annoyed look. "And you could do better?"

Isabella feigned shock. "Why, Sir Edward, I believe you were present when I proved Grandmaster wrong and bested him in an area of expertise that he was supposed to be efficient in. Yes, I can do better than you. I believe I have been; doing better than you at archery, that is, and everything else."

He smirked, placing a string on his bow. "I do not believe you taught me how to shoot an arrow properly as you promised, Miss Jones."

She forced away the urge to roll her eyes. "I make plenty of empty promises, Sir Edward. Many I have forgotten." Edward scowled, which made her laugh. "Oh, that face reminds me of an angry bitch, Sir Edward! Rest easy; I have not forgotten this agreement. There was simply no time to follow through." She held up her bow, placing an arrow on the string. "What and learn, Sir Edward."

Sir Edward smirked and leered at her body. Isabella would rather forget the involuntary shudder that racked her body that admit it. "Frankly, I believe this is the first time I have seen you in a dress, Jones. Finally come to your senses?"

"Oh, sod off, Sir Edward." She snapped.

The two continued, Isabella only speaking to offer tips on how to improve. She laughed when he missed the target and an adorable pinch of the eyebrows graced his face in frustration. Then he would snap at her half-heartedly, Isabella shrugging it off like water off a duck's bill.

If they had been paying attention, they would've noticed the gaze of a blue-eyed man.

He was watching. He was waiting.

* * *

~.~

* * *

Isabella couldn't believe it was already a week since her employment at the castle. Time had flown by so quickly, her first assessments as she first passed through the castle gates fresh in her mind. Honest to God, it felt like she had been living at the castle since she was younger, much like most of the serfs working under the King directly. There was a difference, though.

She had luxuries, such as a day to herself.

She should have been ashamed, really. After the midnight activities with Sir Edward, she had fallen victim to sleep as soon as she changed into her shift and fell into her bed, her mind finally satisfied for reasons she couldn't comprehend. She woke early to the chirping of birds on the tree outside her window, having left the shudders open during the night. There was a slight chill to the chambers, not having a fireplace to warm the small space in between four, cold stone walls.

"Good morn, Marie!" Angela called from their usual table in the serf's dining area. Her plate was already filled with her usual fare and ale. Even though Isabella had shared her meal with the serf every morning without fail during the week, the girl still didn't expect to get anything from Isabella the next day.

Isabella nodded her head passing by. Angela didn't mind the lack of communication from her newfound friend. The serf made up for the silence in spades, chattering about the castle gossip that Isabella didn't care for, indulging her with a small smile. She grabbed her plate and made her way over to Daniel. "Good morn, Daniel." Isabella greeted quietly.

Daniel laughed at something another serf said before turning to her, his boyish smile and dimples ever-present. The man was simply never unhappy or not laughing about something or another. "Good morn to you, Marie!" He slapped some bacon, ham and chicken onto her plate.

She raised her eyebrow. "Remember what I asked to do for me yesterday morn?" She prompted.

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his brow. "Of course! What do you take me for? Some buffoon?" He guffawed again and pointed his fork at Isabella. "Do not answer that question. Borin! Bring me the sack of smoked meat!"

A young boy (assumingly Borin) ran up to Daniel. He was no older than eight summers, yet he was already working the fiery chamber of the serfs. Soot was mottled on his face yet his sharp grey eyes and pale skin peeked out from under the black. Isabella recognized him as "Boring Borin"; a boy who was constantly picked on because of his unfortunate name and lack of education.

Daniel took a sack out of the boy's hands, patting him heartily on the back. "Thanks, boy. Go back to the stables now, you hear?" He instructed.

Borin bowed his head, chewing on his lip. "Ye sure ye don' have any more work for me?"

Daniel scowled. "When I say go back to the stables, I bloody mean it!" The boy scampered off at his annoyed voice, dust left in his wake. Daniel sighed tiredly. "The boy will be the death of me. Constantly fearing the other boys. If he does not stand up to the lot, he'll never be a man." His frown faded as he lost himself in cooking the meats.

Isabella stayed silent for a moment before shaking off her thoughts. "Thank you anyways, Daniel."

He raised an eyebrow. "May I ask about the need of smoked meat? Plan on being away for a while?" He drawled, flipping pieces of ham and adding slivers of bacon to the mix.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Isabella threw over her shoulder as she peeked over a serf stuffing preserved fruits and vegetables in packs for the knight's away-for-duty rations. "Hello there, Mary." She swiped one packet up. "I'll be taking one of those."

"Hey!" She shouted indigently, swiping for the packet. "That's for the knights!"

Isabella held the packet above her head. She was short, but Mary was much, much shorter; bent with age yet springy with energy. Isabella smirked. "Exactly; I am classified as a knight. So I am entitled to a packet." She swooped down to press a light peck on the elderly woman's face. "Thank you, Mary."

"Humph," she pouted, going back to sorting food into portions. "You're lucky that you're a pretty face. It wouldn't have swung with Geoffrey or Ulrich."

"No, you just love me more than them." Isabella said, smirking. She finished collecting her rations for the day and a warm meal for the morn before joining Angela at her table. Even though they had only been friends for a short week, Angela knew more about Isabella than most.

"Planning on going somewhere, Marie?" Angela questioned, pointing a look at Isabella's bag hanging from her shoulder. Isabella settled herself in her seat and began splitting her food with Angel. The serf frowned. "You really shouldn't -"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Every morn, without fail, you attempt to fight me about his matter. Let's avoid the grey hairs it will cause and just accept it, alright?"

Angela smiled wryly. "I know. I just feel awful for taking your food, even if you are wilful."

"You just made your argument invalid with that last tidbit." Isabella noted, spearing a piece of ham and shovelling it into her mouth with gusto. A couple of trees of broccoli and carrots followed with a chunk of white bread. She chewed all but three times and gulped down a swig of milk to wash down the large glop of un-chewed food in her mouth. She noticed Angela's astonished look and she responded with a glare. "What?"

"Good God, Marie! You're eating like you haven't had a lick of food in years! What's gone about you?" She exclaimed with her fork raised mid-air.

She shrugged, shoving more food into her mouth. She swallowed it hastily and chugged down the rest of her milk, gasping for breath. "I have things to do today, and I am burning daylight with every second I spend here." Isabella responded with a lavish wipe of her mouth with the back of her hand.

Angela - the epitome of propriety (despite her station) - shuddered at Isabella's manners. She ground her teeth. "You cannot slow down your eating? You are unable to speak after chewing and swallowing your food?"

Isabella frowned. "I don't remember being born from your womb. I swallowed my food." A crumb of her bread flew out of her mouth and landed on the table. Angela cringed back and Isabella shrugged indifferently.

"_All_ of your food, I meant." Angela corrected with a wary glance to the regurgitated crumb, watching it as if it would sprout legs and attack her.

Isabella took a couple more bites before pushing her plate towards the serf. At the withering glare of her friend, Isabella made sure she swallowed all her food before opening her mouth. "Manners are hardly something that crosses your mind when you have nine other brothers and one sister. I shall be taking my leave. Please finish the rest of my food."

"Already? You left quite a bit here." Angela noted, gulping back the drool at the pieces of bacon and white bread she left.

Isabella shouldered her quiver and bag before snatching up her bow. "Yes. I must be leaving. Like I said; I'm burning daylight."

"It's only six in the morn, Marie. Surely you can spare some time." Angela said, transferring Isabella's left-overs to her own plate and beginning to eat it daintily.

"Yes, but my employment here was very impulsive and quick. Most of my possessions are back at my previous residence, and I would like to collect them and bring them to my chambers here so I do not have to return later. That place happens to be quite the distance from here." She fibbed.

They parted easily, Angela shouting cautions as Isabella left her to finished breaking her fast. As she strode down the halls, she exchanged polite greetings to the serfs she had the "pleasure" of meeting, some genuine and others not. She even spared a satisfied glare at Lauren, who was pitching hay to the horses.

Isabella made her way to the stables, quickly finding Burnside's stall. As she went by, she ran her fingers along the fencing. The scent of dung was very prominent but she – unfortunately – has experienced worse conditions. She rounded the corner. The boy who personally tended to her horse was brushing Burnside's mane with care, his large green eyes squinting with concentration. She perched herself on the fence, watching the boy use gentle strokes on the same spot three times in a row.

"You know, Burnside isn't a mare. He wouldn't care much if his coat was not glistening. Nor do I care," Isabella piped up from behind the boy. The lad jumped in shock, not noticing Isabella creep up behind him.

He blushed. "Yes, ma'am, but I just didn't want to make any mistakes, you know?"

Isabella let a little smile spread her lips. "Yes, I do." She hopped down from her spot and circled her horse. She whistled. "I must commend you, lad. I apologize for not asking earlier, but what is your name?"

"Henry Baker, ma'am," Henry beamed with contentment at receiving positive acknowledgement.

She clapped him on the back. "I thank you, Henry Baker. When you do something, you put everything you have into it. I would bet fifty pounds that you are meant to be more than a simple horse keeper." She flipped him another pence. "Remember to save these, okay?"

Henry stared at another piece of pence in his palm, the glint of the metal catching sunlight making his smile stretch even bigger and wider. He looked up at Isabella with the happiest face she had ever seen. He nodded. "Thank you!"

Isabella smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're welcome, Henry. I'll take it from here. Go tend to the other horses."

Henry scampered off in the other direction, rounding the corner and out of her view. Isabella smiled whimsically at the sight before shaking herself out of a stupor. She patted her horse's flank. "Nice to see you again, you fat ruffian."

Burnside huffed and threw his head haughtily. _"I would tell you that I am not fat again, but it seems that nothing gets through that thick piece of wood you call a skull."_

Isabella frowned. "I resent that, you cur." She began to saddle up her steed and packing her things to the side. Isabella swung up onto his saddle with ease, settling her bow on her lap. She pulled her long tresses into a braid as she pressed her heels into Burnside's side and trotted languidly out of the stables. When the morning light hit her face, she pulled up her cowl to cover her eyes.

Henry tipped his head as she passed. Isabella spared him no smile but let her eyes dance goofily as Burnside huffed arrogantly and threw his head. Isabella frowned and gently slapped his mane. "Don't be like that, you dolt. Egotism is not attractive. At this rate, you won't be getting any pretty mares."

Burnside snorted and tossed his head in the other direction, towards a group of mares grazing in the field. One in particular - a white Arabian horse that, ironically, Isabella knew belonged to the Queen - was staring at Burnside intently.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "You always get ahead of yourself, bud. Are you sure you do not have any dung on your face? Perhaps she is staring at the deformation of a muzzle you call eye-catching." She jested with a snip.

She was almost out the castle gates when she heard a high-pitched grunt and several boys laughing maniacally. Isabella frowned and turned to the tumult, out of place with the other sounds of clashing metal and hard-working serfs.

The sight of four boys towering over one huddled on the ground made her blood boil.

Isabella made her way over to the group of boys. She clenched her jaw as the eldest was flogging the boy on the ground with a wiry branch, not quite causing the boy to bleed but creating angry red marks over his skin. The three other boys, who were most likely the eldest boy's lackeys, laughed at their victim while kicking dirt and grass onto the quiver body.

"Would someone care to tell me what is going on here?" Isabella said lazily as if she were initiating a casual conversation with an acquaintance.

The three boys' head immediately flicked over to Isabella, panic and worry at being caught evident in their eyes. The oldest – probable to be the leader of the group – stopped his punishments to the young target on the ground but did not turn to her, instead sneering to the sobbing boy.

One of the boys nudged the leader with his elbow. "Barda," he hissed.

Barda – the leader – finally turned his attention to Isabella after kicking the boy in the ribs. Isabella's eyes narrowed at the act and her heart clenched at the broken sob that escaped the victim's throat. "What?" He snapped disrespectfully.

Her eyes remained unresponsive but her anger was still existent, her only indication of her fury present in the twitch of her mouth. "How old are you?"

Barda was surprised by her question; he was expecting reprimanding he would ignore, beatings he could evade and punishments he could survive. Flogging or any damaging to the body was unacceptable as he was of noble blood, which was also the reason why he could exert enough power over the younger, naïve sons of servants. Whilst the other serfs thought that he favoured his minions and used them as his whipping boys, he could care less about their well-being.

"What's it to you?" He demanded proudly. Burnside bristled under her with the need to knock some sense into the boy's head with his hooves, but Isabella calmed his muscles with a pat to his side.

Isabella scanned his frame; slightly tall and wiry, his face starting to mature with defining cheek bones. Meat was beginning to pack onto his arms and legs but he lacked the muscle and sharp angles of an adolescent or young adult. "Fine then, here is another question; what's eleven multiplied by four?"

Again, Barda was confused. "What's with your stupid questions? What's going on?"

She rolled her eyes. "Now, why would I answer your questions if you don't answer mine?" She offered him a grin known to dazzle, but felt disgusted for giving it to him in the first place. "I'll tell you what; you answer my question and I'll answer yours." She turned her head with a shrug. "Unless you don't know the answer of something so simple…"

"Forty-four," he boy immediately responded, eyes blazing at his intelligence being questioned. "Now tell me what this is about."

Isabella exhaled deeply, a hint of frustration obvious in her voice. "So demanding," she commented to no one in particular. "It's of no matter though. I was asking about how many lashes each of you ill-nurtured hellions will receive with the birch. I assume your age to be eleven and multiplied that by how many are present to torture the lad."

The boys were taken aback. Stones dropped from their small fingers and the youngest, no older than five summers, began to cry as though she had stricken him. Barda kept his steeled and defiant stance, but worry spilled into his eyes and his eyes were frantically searching for a loophole.

"Do you know who my father is? My father is -"

Isabella waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, your father is Grandmaster Harrison. I recognize the dark hair and beady eyes anywhere. He is of no aid to you," the sadistic pleasure she was use to crept into her bloodstream as alarm filled his eyes. "He's currently under retraining since an unfortunate instance where he was bested in his profession he was supposedly a master in. He's under enough fire as it is and I doubt he would care for your impudence." Her eyes flashed to his neck and forearms. "I can tell he has beaten you, so he obviously does not care much for your well-being, only that your reputation reflects his own as a father. His behaviour has influenced your own, I can tell. May I go on or would you like me to double the lashes?"

The three boys were still as stone as they pleaded silently with Barda to say something. Isabella could see tears welling in his eyes but felt no remorse. It was time someone other than a harsh father put him in his place.

Barda opened his mouth and closed it several times, resembling a fish before he spoke. "You – you – you're a wench! A serf! You – you have no power over me! You're simply an ill-bred hag! Your father is most likely a commoner farmer and your mother is mangy bitch!" He spat.

Isabella's face remained stoic through his outburst. "You may say what you wish for now, young Barda, but my patience wears thin and I will not hesitate to strike an insolent child." She threatened lowly. However, she would only react if the bloke had truly pushed her past her limits; he was far from it. She had dealt with worse. "I am stationed as a knight, ranking the same as your father. I am the personal guard of Princess Vanessa. I have enough pull to punish you for petty bullying of your peers."

"You – you…" Barda seethed.

While the young boy was simmering in his spot and the other three boys were still as statues, their victim was beginning to stir. He pulled himself off the ground, his face beginning to bruise and his arms bleeding slightly and skin broken. She looked down to the dirt covered boy and recognized him as Borin.

"Are you well?" Isabella asked him.

He sat on the grass, dazed. "What's going on?"

"I was just asking you about your well-being. Do you have enough strength to hold a bushel?" Isabella inquired.

Borin glanced down to his clasped hands in his lap, shoulders sagged. He felt as if a dozen stallions had stampeded over his prone body. His head was pounding and his vision was slightly blurry, but he knew he would recover. "I believe so." He muttered.

Isabella instantly understood his melancholy and softened. "Do not worry, young Borin. I will not be putting you to work. I was just wondering if you had enough strength to deal forty-four lashes to each of the boys with the birch for their actions, but you do not look well. I will see to it that you are cared for." She hopped down from Burnside's back and scooped the boy easily into her arms and helped him onto the saddle. Isabella pulled herself back up, the lad behind her. She turned to the four boys. "This evening, you will report to the stables for your lashes, your faces buried in horse dung."

The youngest broke out into sobs of what was to come. "No! P-please!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, what was that? 'Please' what?" She prompted.

The youngest cried even harder. "P-please do not give us the birch! Or spare me! I did not wish to, but they made me!"

Despite the crying child, Isabella chuckled. "Oh, naïve child, they do not make you do anything. You have a choice, and you decided to follow in their footsteps. I saw you throw stones at poor Borin. You will get the exact same lashes." She pretended to think for a moment, tapping her forefinger against her chin. "Although, you did say please," their faces light with hope, Barda included.

Isabella jumped down from Burnside again, talking a piece of rope hanging from the fence and tying it around their wrists and capturing their thumbs so they could not escape. They were all attached to each other so none could decide to make a runner and tied the end to the stirrup of the saddle. She heaved herself back up onto the saddle, settling in front of the battered Borin.

"You better keep up, because we are not stopping!" Isabella shouted as she pressed her heels into Burnside's sides and set off on an easy jog.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry for the filler chapter, guys, though it does kind of move up the plot a tad bit. I could make up a whole bunch of shitty excuses why I'm so late (school, family, life) but I'm an honest person (bullshit). Seriously though, I just suck. A lot. _**

**_To anon Guest: You're very welcome! Sorry for the delay!_**

**_To tina (Guest): I'm glad you're hooked! The good kind of hooked, not the kind where your dad caught your finger on the back hand of casting a lure. Not fun. I'll try to update again as soon as the elusive Inspiration fairy makes a stop by my house._**

**_To everyone else: Thanks for reading! I know it's a lot to ask (and I won't hate you all for it if not), but can we get to 25 reviews on by chapter 11 or chapter 12? :3_**

**_Love in the club,_**

**_- A_**


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